Seven Devils
by ladycobert
Summary: Are Cora's expectations of her new life - and her new husband - aimed too high? (Set between Strangeness & Charm and Open Your Eyes.)
1. The way of things

_A/N: This one, as the companion to _Strangeness and Charm, _will be told from Cora's point of view. I haven't abandoned _S&C, _I've just hit a bit of a wall with that one for now.__ In the meantime, enjoy Cora's thoughts..._

* * *

Mid October, 1888

Cora sat up in bed, attempting to read. The wedding was two days away; she felt nervous and, to be completely honest, very intimidated. Downton had proved to be beautiful and expansive, but it also seemed cold and unwelcoming to her too. Or perhaps that was just Robert's mother.

After reading the same paragraph without any comprehension for what must have been the seventeenth time, Cora sighed and put her book upon her lap. The room – her new bedroom – was lit by two oil lamps, one on each bedside table. She glanced around the room by their light. A large armoire, a chaise longue, chairs, a dressing table, and a full length mirror stood at various points in the room, and she had her own washroom as well. The room was pleasantly appointed, in fact, and Cora thought that she'd be comfortable here. The bed itself was comfortable, as well as being rather large, much larger than her bed at home.

Cora sighed again and lowered her eyes to where her hands traced along her book cover. She needed to stop thinking of Newport, of New York, of America, as her home. Her home was here now, Downton. And in two more days, it would be official.

Light sparkled from the diamonds upon her finger, catching her eye. Robert's great-grandmother's ring. Cora remembered the day he gave it to her and smiled. He'd wanted her to stay. He wanted _her_. But he didn't love her.

Her face fell at the thought. She'd told Robert, a few weeks ago, how she felt about him. That she loved him. She'd honestly thought he might say it in return. He'd been so attentive to her, so kind, so charming. He'd responded positively to her affection, had worked so hard to smooth things over when they'd had misunderstandings or arguments, and from some of the things he'd said…. But no. When she'd told him, he'd looked almost shocked, as if he'd never even considered the possibility that they should love one another.

Perhaps English reserve made him this way, or his upbringing as an aristocrat. But, still, after that initial reaction, he'd been understanding and very sweet to her. From what he'd said, Cora knew he certainly wasn't indifferent to her; he held her in high esteem and might even be fond of her. And, it didn't escape her that he might actually feel more than he realized. However, that was not what he'd said to her.

How she hoped that she could get him to feel for her what she felt for him. There were no two ways about it: she had crossed the ocean – and agreed to stay here – for him. And she knew she'd cross heaven and earth if he asked her to. Cora would do anything for him. She loved him. And she'd loved him even before he proposed. Despite the fact that he was a self-acknowledged fortune-hunter. She didn't care.

Cora raised her eyes to the door opposite her bed. Robert's door. His bedroom adjoined hers. When Violet had shown her into her room the week before – something which Cora had never thought she'd do personally – she'd been very careful to point out the bolt that locked the door on her side, and that it should be locked always. At least until their wedding night. Violet had pursed her lips at her and narrowed her eyes until they were merely slits. Then Cora had understood why Violet showed her the room herself. She knew she could be offended, but she chose not to be. The fact that Violet had unbent enough to let her stay in the room that connected with her son's – bolt or not – showed a certain amount of thawing toward her future daughter-in-law. Not a lot – but it was something.

As she stared at the door, lost in these musings, Cora thought she heard a noise from the other side. Tilting her head, she listened carefully until she heard it again. It sounded almost like a scratching upon the door. She got up and drew her dressing gown around her, then walked over and put her ear to the panel.

"Cora?" Robert's voice pierced through to her, his tone pleading, like a wounded animal. "Cora, might you open the door?" The scratching noises came again.

Stepping back a bit, she gaped. "I'm not supposed to open the door, Robert," she protested, hoping he could hear her.

"But, Cora, I need to see you," he begged.

Thinking that he might be hurt, she threw the bolt and pulled open the door. "Robert, are you alright?"

He grinned at her stupidly and stumbled a few paces into the room. "I am now." He swept his eyes over her, her bare feet peeping out from under her night dress, her dressing gown, her night braid falling demurely over her shoulder, and what she knew must be a startled look upon her face. "God, you're beautiful," he declared.

Cora took in his own night clothes – without a dressing gown, which caused her to blush – his heightened color and ungainly stance, and his disheveled hair. She could smell what she thought was Scotch on his breath. "Robert, are you – are you drunk?"

"No, no, no." He kept grinning and running his eyes over her, making her slightly uncomfortable, while at the same time slightly tingly. "I had a few drinks with Papa. He was giving me –" here his eyes darted to and fro, and he lowered his voice, putting his hand near his mouth like he was about to tell her a very important secret – "_the talk_."

Taking one step back, Cora drew her dressing gown closer around herself. "_The talk_?"

Shutting the door behind him now – something which set tiny alarm bells off in Cora's head – Robert leaned back against it with that same look on his face. He nodded vigorously. "Yes. I'm sure you had one with your mother? Or will soon enough?" His expression changed a trifle, to something Cora couldn't quite read.

"I – I don't understand, Robert." She cocked her head at him. "Are you sure you're unhurt? You're not ill in any way?"

Robert shook his head just as vehemently as he'd nodded it a moment before. "No, I'm quite well, Cora. I'm just – I wanted to see you."

"Well, you've seen me now, and if you're unhurt, then I think you should go back to your room." Cora inclined her head toward the door behind him, knowing her face had begun to grow red. If Robert's mother – if her own mother – knew that he stood in her room, not even in a dressing gown, it would be disaster.

"But, Cora," he entreated her, moving half a pace forward, "I've hardly seen you over the past few weeks. With all the wedding preparations and legal hassles and our mothers – we've had no time alone." His blue eyes grew large, his face pitiful, like a puppy whose mistress had been absent for days.

Cora relented, unable to resist that look – or his tumbled, dark locks. She sighed. "You sit there." She pointed to a chair. "And I'll sit over here." She went to sit across the room on the chaise.

Robert watched her, but didn't go to the chair she'd indicated. "I rather thought I could sit closer to you than that." He batted his long eyelashes at her.

Her breath caught. His eyelashes were something she'd noticed the first night he'd approached her, and they were often her undoing. Whether he realized this or not – and thus had batted them intentionally or not – she wasn't sure. But she couldn't resist him. Swallowing hard, closing her eyes briefly, she flourished a hand over the space beside her on the chaise.

Her fiancé bounded over much quicker than she'd expected his tipsy limbs could manage, the silly grin reaffixed upon his lips. As he sat down beside her, he clasped his hands together in his lap, and Cora thought that he did this to prevent himself from touching her, as he leaned as close to her as he could.

"Did you have something you wanted – or needed – to speak to me about?" Cora began to feel a bit lightheaded, having him next to her in the dim light of her bedroom, the scent of his cologne mixing with the scent of the whiskey, and his eyes boring into hers.

He shook his head a little, his cheeks coloring more. "No, not anything particular. The talk with Papa…. I – it made me think about you." He cast his eyes around the room, then down to his hands and took a deep breath. He appeared slightly embarrassed now. "Maybe you're right, Cora. Maybe I should go back to my own room."

Cora's chest tightened. Now that he was here, she didn't want him to leave. He'd been right on one count; they'd hardly been alone more than a handful of minutes in the past several weeks. Placing a hand over his, she said softly, "No, don't go yet."

Raising his eyes to hers, he smiled. It was a genuine smile, not the stupid grin from before. "Are you sure? I _have_ had several drinks, and your proximity is working to intoxicate me further."

"Robert," she whispered, chuckling lightly, "what sort of talk _was_ this?" She couldn't imagine what had brought him to this state.

She also didn't imagine that his entire visage would turn such a deep shade of crimson. He still smiled, but he bent his head down. "About the wedding night. Duties of a husband, you know."

Cora's eyes widened, and she nearly pulled her hand away from his, realizing what "the talk" had been about. She felt her own face grow warm, remembering her own talk with her mother several days before. It had actually rather frightened her. But her mother's very frank discussion – of the mechanics and how the first time would hurt to some extent – was tempered by descriptions from Cora's friends from home, most of whom were already married. Some, of course, refused to give details. Some told her things that gave her only the vaguest of notions of how it worked and what to expect. But a couple – she recognized these as the friends who had chanced upon happy partnerships – told her in quite a bit of detail about their bedroom escapades.

And, despite how her mother had spoken of it, she knew that her parents enjoyed that part of their marriage. Neither Martha nor Isidore had to speak the words; Cora simply knew. Her conversation with her mother had confirmed this for her. A certain way she had of smiling when she talked about particular things…. Yes, Cora had been frightened. But, all in all, she was also intrigued and wondered how it would be between her and Robert.

"Yes," she confirmed tentatively. "I do know."

Robert raised his head again, catching his breath sharply. "You seem calm. I thought – I thought you might be fearful."

Cora smiled at his obvious nerves. "I am, a little." She remembered what he'd said earlier. "I _have _had this talk with my mother. She –" taking a deep breath, she continued – "she said it would hurt the first time." Now she lowered her eyes, biting her lip.

Turning one of his hands so he could hold hers, Robert said in a low voice, "I don't like to think of hurting you."

Pressing his hand, she kept her head bent. "I think you'll have to, Robert. At least this once. But it doesn't seem like a very nice wedding night, does it?"

Cora felt him move his other hand, and he placed it under her chin, lifting her head to look at him. "No, it doesn't. But I suppose that's the way of things."

"Robert?" she ventured, trembling a little.

"Yes, Cora?" His hand remained under her chin.

"Kiss me?" Cora knew this was a dangerous request. He'd admitted he'd been thinking of her, that he was tipsy, that he thought he might need to leave. But, thinking of what was to happen, she desperately needed to be close to him.

Robert leaned toward her, until he almost touched her lips with his, then he turned away, closing his eyes. "I can't. I should go. If I kiss you, I might…. I should go," he repeated, pulling his hands from her and standing.

Before she could stop herself, Cora jumped up from the chaise and curled her fingers around his wrist as he started for the dividing door. "Please. Don't go. I – I don't want you to go." She wasn't sure why it was so important to her, but she needed him to stay. She began trembling again.

"Cora, you're shaking. What's the matter?" He didn't come any closer, but he covered her hand with his, looking at her in concern.

Cora blinked back tears. She didn't like crying in front of him, knowing how much it upset him. So, instead, she took the few steps that separated them, and, before he could protest, she leaned up to kiss him.

For several seconds, he attempted to break away from her, but her hand stole to the nape of his neck, and she held his head gently in place. She still had very little experience with kissing, but she did the best she could with what he'd taught her, which he'd always seemed to enjoy. She knew she lacked confidence as well, and continually wondered what new things she might try – how much further she might take things – but was still so unsure. She liked it better when Robert took the lead.

And soon enough, he did. She felt his arms wrap around her waist as he slid his tongue across her lips. This form of kissing still seemed foreign to her, but she found herself getting more used to it, with practice. It was so intimate, his tongue in her mouth, which this time tasted of alcohol, when she opened her lips wider to allow it entry. While not unpleasant, it reminded her of what he'd already hinted to her: that he might not be able to stop himself from doing something more if they began kissing.

But as his arms pressed her to himself in such an amorous way, she realized she didn't care. The only thing that mattered to her was being in his embrace. And it mattered even more as he reached up to stroke her hair, all the way down to play with the end of her braid, tightening his hold on her waist with the other. Then – by accident, she was sure, as he still fingered the tail of her plait – his thumb brushed against her breast. Her eyes flew open, and she involuntarily gasped at the way her own body reacted to this unexpected touch.

Robert drew away at her gasp, then froze, concern and confusion both writ plain upon his features. "Cora, is something wrong? Do you want me to go?"

"No. I…." She touched his cheek and smiled at him. "Don't move." Stepping back a pace, with his arm falling away from her waist, Cora untied her dressing gown and let it slide off her shoulders and pool around her feet. Now she heard his own gasp. The linen of her white night dress was very fine, and she could feel another blush creeping down her throat to realize that he could probably see the outline of her figure quite clearly through the fabric.

The way his eyes swept over her caused her to blush even harder, and she felt the tightening between her legs again. His eyes glittered and darkened, and he appeared frozen in place, apart from his appreciative gaze. "Cora," he whispered.

In answer, she simply took one of his hands in both of hers and put it over her breast, wanting to see if it would cause those stirrings again. She closed her eyes and listened to his breathing grow heavier as he gently moved his hand beneath hers to fondle her. His finger grazed over her nipple, and she couldn't stop herself from inhaling sharply at the multiple reactions this produced.

Suddenly, Robert was attempting to reclaim his hand from her, and her eyes snapped open. His expression reflected a sort of panic, and he stumbled backwards, evidently still somewhat inebriated.

"Robert? Did I do something wrong?" she asked as he turned from her, his head bent and his breathing uneven. "I'm sorry, I –"

Cora could tell that he shook his head then. "No, you didn't. Quite the opposite. But I have to go back to my room. If I don't, it won't – I won't…." Robert trailed off, and he took another step toward his door.

"Please, I don't understand." Cora went to him and placed a hand on his back, astonished when he flinched.

"Oh God, Cora, don't." He turned his head to look over his shoulder at her. "If I don't go now, I won't be able to wait until our wedding night," he said in a low voice. "I would never want to be a cause of shame for you."

Putting her arm down by her side, Cora watched as he turned his face away again. She understood now, she thought, why he wanted to go. But her mind flitted to her family – her parents and her brother – who would be gone, sailing back to America without her, in only a few more days. The idea left her feeling empty. Robert's presence was the one thing that eased that sense of hollowness for her. And she made a decision.

"Robert," she addressed him softly before he could stir another foot toward his door. "I don't see what is shameful. We'll be wed in less than two days. And I don't need anyone to pronounce us man and wife in order to be any more yours. Please." She took a deep breath to steady her voice. "Please, stay. I want – I want to be with you. In whatever way you need."

Slowly, Robert spun around to face her again, drawing himself up to his full height, and Cora saw how his long night shirt couldn't hide the prominent bulge below his waist. Her eyes widened, but she only looked away to gaze back into his eyes. "Are you certain?"

Determinedly, she nodded, stepping closer and taking his hand. "Yes," she said. "I don't want to wait." And she knew it was true. Besides wanting to be near him, their activities had piqued her interest to a point that she wasn't sure she _could_ wait.

Robert lifted his hand and brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek before bending his head to kiss her again. He crushed his body to hers, letting go of her hand and snaking his arm around her waist. Cora felt the press of his arousal upon her hip, and it sent another surge of tingling excitement through her – as well as a dose of nerves. But her mother had told her that nerves were natural, and that she should concentrate on the other sensations.

And there were plenty enough of those. For soon Robert had moved his hand down between them to caress one of her breasts again, molding it through the linen and flicking a finger over its nipple. This elicited an instinctive sigh from her, and she could feel him stiffen even more against her hip at the sound. She found that she enjoyed having an effect upon him, that her reactions could stimulate his.

"Robert," she breathed as his mouth left hers to press kisses along her throat. His fingers fumbled with the buttons on the bodice of her night dress, but he failed. Cora helped him by opening a few of the buttons, whereupon he shunted the fabric off her collar bone to kiss there.

"I've been wanting to do that since the first night I spoke to you," he murmured against her neck, just loud enough for her to catch the words. "There was a ringlet nestled right here…" He brushed his lips along the curve of her neck to illustrate where. "And all I wanted to do was just this…." He repeated the act. "It quite took my breath away, thinking of that." He lifted his head and focused his blue eyes upon hers. "You took my breath away. Just as you're doing now."

Cora felt her own breathing waver at his words, the touch of his lips, the way he gazed at her. She wondered that her knees didn't give way; whether he realized it or not, he had swept her off her feet all over again.

And then he swept her off her feet literally. Kissing her lips once more, he bent to gather her up in his arms and carry her to the bed. Laying her gently down upon it, he turned the lamp down until the light was very low, then went around to the other side to do the same. He climbed up next to her, lying on his side and looking down into her face. "Cora, you can still tell me to go, and I will. I may be fairly intoxicated, and you've most certainly enchanted me, but I have enough of my wits about me to depart, if you wish. I don't want you to feel you have to continue if you're not comfortable."

"No, Robert. Please stay." Cora reached up and touched his cheek, which was no longer completely smooth this late in the evening.

Nodding, he turned his head a trifle to press a kiss to her palm before leaning down to kiss her mouth again, and she levered herself up on her side a bit. Robert's hand strayed to her hip, sending another current of electricity through her. She wasn't bold enough to touch him anywhere but his arms and shoulders, his face and hair and neck, or to slip her own tongue into his mouth. Fortunately, he didn't seem to need her to, seemed perfectly comfortable with what she was doing, and in running his hand up her side and down again, over her hip and to her thigh.

It took a moment for her to realize that his motion had a dual purpose, as she felt her night dress begin to bunch up at her waist, her lower limbs becoming bare. Her nerves struck her again, and she almost moved her own hand down to cover herself once more. Then his hand rested on the light lawn material of her knee-length drawers, upon the outside of her thigh, about halfway between her knee and her hip. Instead of moving her hand down to cover herself, she covered his hand instead and guided it up to the waistband of her drawers. Remembering his trouble with buttons, she reached around behind her and deftly unbuttoned them with one hand.

"It's alright," she whispered, breaking their kiss. Her eyes flitted down to where his arousal strained against the front of his night shirt. She didn't know how soon he would need her to be undressed, but she wanted him to know that when he was ready, she would be too. And she hoped she would be.

Robert gazed at her again and pressed kisses to her cheeks and forehead, her nose and jawline, as he hooked the fingers of both hands around the waistband and began sliding her drawers down her legs. Cora wriggled a bit, helping him ease them over her hips and behind, her face growing very warm as his hands brushed against her bare skin. But he looked into her eyes as he plucked the garment off her feet and let it fall from his hand, off the edge of the bed.

At this though, Robert's eyes appeared even more glazed, and it seemed he could hardly control his breathing. He floundered about with his night shirt, and she realized he was removing his own undergarments. Her curiosity wouldn't allow her eyes to stay on his face, and as he wrestled with pulling off his drawers, she caught her first sight of him and blinked rapidly, biting her lip. She lifted her eyes to his abruptly and wondered how they were supposed to fit together.

Robert finally managed to discard his drawers and rested a hand upon her cheek. "Are you – are you still alright?" His breaths were erratic, and she discerned that he was shaking.

Cora nodded, continuing to bite her bottom lip, knowing she was red from the roots of her hair to the tops of her breasts. Her eyes were wide, and her mind was racing at least as much as her heart. But she so wanted to please him.

"Did I ever tell you how much I like to see you blush?" His voice was soft, almost tender, as he began situating her on her back, his eyes maintaining contact with hers.

"No," she succeeded in choking out, blushing even more furiously than before, but letting go of her lip in a smile. She knew he endeavored to put her at ease, which she greatly appreciated, as her nerves threatened to overcome her, now that the moment seemed imminent.

"And your smile – it's one of the first things I noticed about you. One of the first things that made me want to know who this lovely creature across the ballroom from me was." He smiled down into her face while he glided a gentle hand over the outside of her thighs.

"Was it?" She lowered her lashes as she continued to smile and blush.

Nodding sincerely, Robert touched his lips to hers as he moved his hand to caress along her inner thighs, causing delicious shivers to dance up and down her spine. She knew what he wanted – needed – for her to do, could still feel him shaking with self-control. Cora knew he would never force her, so she slowly spread her legs apart in silent welcome as she looked up into his face lovingly, reaching up to touch his cheek. She wanted to tell him she loved him, but she couldn't. So she would have to show him as best she could.

Robert kept skimming his hand up and down her inner thigh as he moved to fit himself between her legs. She could hear a low noise coming from him, and she recognized it as the strains of their first dance. He hummed it as he kept his eyes on hers. Then he murmured, "Cora, I need to…." He took a deep breath, his flushed face apparent even in the low light of the lamps.

Cora stroked his cheek. "Do what you need to, Robert." She punctuated this with a nod and a soft smile.

Then she felt his fingers upon her, feeling between her legs in a way that made her catch her breath and squirm slightly. All her blood seemed to surge to that one area of her body, and she closed her eyes as he pressed his fingers into her. "Oh!" she let slip in surprise.

He promptly withdrew his hand. "Did I hurt you?" Robert asked in some alarm.

She opened her eyes again and fastened them upon his furrowed brow and fearful expression. "No, not at all." Cora tried to reassure him by smiling and grazing her hand over his cheek. "Go ahead, Robert." She nodded again.

Robert smiled back at her and let his fingers feel between her legs once more. Then she waited as he withdrew them. He finally closed his own eyes as he cautiously penetrated her. She tensed and held her breath as he pushed into her, but he paused and looked down at her before she felt anything more than an uncomfortable tightness. He had his weight upon one elbow, and he moved his arm to brush her hair back from her face. The expression on his own face was almost tender. "I don't want to hurt you, Cora" he whispered.

"You have to. Just this once." She endeavored to make her voice encouraging even as it trembled. "Please, we're already here, Robert." She slid her hand up to thread her fingers into the dark hair at his temple. "Just – kiss me while you do?"

He nodded and lowered himself carefully to do as she bid. She focused as much as she could on his lips upon hers, even as she felt him push farther into her, until she thought there was no way he could go any farther.

And then there was the pain, like a sharp, cruel pinch deep inside her. She whimpered into his mouth, her fingers twisting into his hair, clutching it as she squeezed her eyes tight against tears.

"Cora," he whispered when he lifted his head from hers. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She felt his lips upon her cheeks, in front of her ears, where she realized that tears coursed down her face and into her hair. He continued to murmur apologies as he feathered kisses over her face and brushed his hand over her hair, otherwise unmoving.

"Robert, please don't apologize." Cora played with his hair, her tears already stopped. The pain had subsided, and she was growing accustomed to the feel of him. She wriggled her hips a little and was delighted when he seemed to twitch inside her, and even more delighted when he let out a low moan.

At another wriggle of her hips, Robert gasped and breathed, "Oh, God. I – I really need to move now, if you are comfortable enough."

Cora couldn't help squirming a trifle to hear him groan once more, to see his eyes close. A giggle escaped her before she could stop it. "Yes, Robert."

He looked down at her, half in surprise and half in relief. Thus reassured, however, his need apparently won over his astonishment at her giggle, and he began to move against her, slowly, deliberately, his eyes shut tight. Cora watched his face, her fingers still twisted in his hair, and grew ever more amazed at how her own body responded to his measured thrusts. Her hips began to move in tandem with him of their own accord, and the stirrings she'd felt before became acute. She wrapped her legs around him, prompting him to increase his tempo.

However, just as she thought she might reach something akin to what her more forthcoming friends had described, Robert feverishly pushed into her a final time with a prolonged groan and stilled. Slipping his arms beneath her back and hugging her against him, he panted heavily, and she could feel his heart thumping upon her chest. She slid her other arm around his waist, rubbing his back distractedly through his night shirt. Tightening her legs around him, she closed her eyes, unwilling to let him go.

After several moments, Robert's breathing returned to almost normal, and she felt him slide from within her. A strange emptiness overtook her as he began to stir. He sat up on his elbow again and touched her face. "Cora? Is everything alright?"

She gave him a small, timid smile. "Yes. I – was it – did you…." She took a deep breath. "Was it nice?" She realized that this was more important to her than she'd known as she began shivering again.

A shadow of mirth crossed his face, but Robert apparently understood that even a chuckle would be out of place when she was this earnest. "Yes. More than nice." He bent down to kiss her, then turned onto his side, gathering her up against him after he'd rearranged their night clothes back over them.

Cora nestled her head against his shoulder and sighed softly, content to have given him pleasure, content to be so close to him.

"Cora?" he queried.

"Yes, Robert?" she whispered, as her eyes began to droop, she was so comfortable resting with him that way.

"Do you forgive me?"

Too tired to even scrunch up her face in confusion, she asked softly, "What for?" She yawned.

"For taking you before our wedding night? For hurting you?" She detected a note of anxiety in his voice.

"Robert, don't be silly," she insisted gently. "I knew what would happen when we came together, and I encouraged you to stay. There's nothing to forgive." Cora nuzzled her face into the fabric of his night shirt, inhaling the scent of laundry soap, of perspiration, of his cologne.

"All the same," he said, "I'd like to know that you do."

She nodded lazily. "Yes, Robert. I forgive you."

It wasn't until he let out his breath in a long exhale that ruffled her hair that she comprehended that he'd been holding it. It was essential to him, that he not hurt her any more than necessary, and it pained him to do even that. Knowing this gratified her, and she relaxed even more in his arms. She felt his fingers play with the end of her braid as she fell asleep.

* * *

As Cora stretched the limbs curled up under her, she winced at the soreness between her legs. It hadn't been a dream, then. But, as she opened her eyes and gazed around in the pre-dawn light, she saw that she was alone. Robert had extinguished the lamps before leaving, but he had indeed left, the door between their rooms shut.

A wave of loneliness crashed over her. She jumped out of bed in frustration and went over to the door, throwing the bolt. Blinking her eyes against the tears that refused to be held back, she went to the washroom and splashed water on her face. Cora knew it was useless to be upset, knew that Robert was as cognizant as she that if he were found in her room come morning, it would be catastrophic. She knew that he recognized that she would be censured even more severely than he would for this incident out of bounds, and he wanted to spare her that, just as he'd wanted to spare her pain or shame.

Cora knew it, but she couldn't help wondering how it could be so easy for him to leave her. He'd not even woken her to tell her he was going. Again, she knew he'd probably simply been unwilling to wake her, to interrupt her sleep, but still…. Cora wondered, as she slipped back into bed and pulled the sheets up around herself, if this was what it would be like for them. She wondered if she would keep coming so close to him – have Robert come so close to her – only to come back to a perpetual emptiness.

She wept quietly, knowing as she fell asleep once more that this particular hurt wouldn't disappear nearly so quickly as the other. This hurt, unless something changed between them, wouldn't happen only once; it would happen every time. And she knew it was no one's doing but her own.


	2. Our own business

Only a few hours later, Cora heard the curtains being thrown open. Sunlight spilled across the bed, and, for one mortifying instant, she realized that her drawers still lay upon the floor. Keeping an eye on the maid, who bustled about with the curtains at the other windows, Cora leaned down and twitched the undergarments off the carpet, hoping the maid hadn't seen. She nearly fell off the bed in the undertaking, but got them beneath the bedclothes with her and sat up before the maid turned around to her.

Smiling to hide her embarrassment, Cora said, "Kendrick, I would like a bath this morning before breakfast."

"Very good, Miss Levinson." Bobbing a bit, Kendrick disappeared into the washroom to prepare the bath.

Cora squirmed under the covers, working the drawers up over her legs, thighs, hips, and doing up the button in the back. Then, she quickly slipped out of bed, going to her armoire to choose her morning outfit, noting that she was still a bit sore between the legs. Opening the door to the armoire, Cora spared a glance over to the dividing door. She wondered what Robert would do or say to her when he saw her this morning at breakfast. Sighing silently, she tried to push it out of her mind, knowing speculation would only drive her mad, and selected a blue dress that she remembered he liked.

Kendrick appeared in the doorway. "Miss, your bath is almost ready. Might I pin your hair up for you?"

"Thank you, yes. And, I'll wear this today, I think." Cora went to sit at her dressing table.

"Yes, Miss Levinson." Kendrick hung the dress on the back of the armoire door, following Cora. She deftly pinned up her hair, then went to check on the bath.

Cora watched Kendrick's retreating form in the mirror. The maid was actually Violet's lady's maid, and Cora did not like her very much at all. And she was nearly certain that Kendrick returned the sentiment. Kendrick shared many attributes with her mistress: exacting standards and a coldness toward strangers being among the most conspicuous. Cora gathered that Kendrick did not particularly care for being given extra duties, duties a maid of lower status could have performed. But Cora also suspected that Violet had given her maid the task of spying upon her future daughter-in-law.

Looking forward to the day when she would have her own maid (they'd settled upon engaging one in the week between the wedding and honeymoon), Cora stood and went into the washroom at Kendrick's beckoning and paid little attention to being undressed. Settling into the bath, Cora thought about her own maid from home, Sally. But Sally wasn't a proper lady's maid, and she wouldn't have wanted to move away from her family, even for Cora, with whom she'd always been close. Cora even missed her London companion, Miss MacIntyre, who had never failed to keep her diverted when society became tedious.

Here at Downton, Cora had few friends. She hadn't been in residence long enough to befriend any of the staff – and she had the feeling that Violet wouldn't approve of her having any true friends among them anyway. Robert's father was always very kind to Cora, which she appreciated, but he couldn't be a friend either. Cora had taken to Rosamund, and she thought that perhaps Rosamund saw her as a sort of friend as well. But other than her, Robert was the only friend Cora had at Downton.

Cora stretched her limbs, relieved that the steaming bathwater eased the soreness. Picking up soap and sponge, she washed herself thoroughly, vaguely aware of the now familiar noises of Kendrick's busy tidying in the next room. Closing her eyes, Cora's thoughts returned unbidden to the previous evening, and she ran the sponge lazily over her limbs, recalling Robert's hands on her skin, his lips upon hers…. She smiled, in spite of herself, in spite of how she'd felt when she'd discovered he'd gone. Somehow, having Kendrick in the room made Cora much more aware of the precarious position they'd put themselves in, and she felt more inclined to absolve Robert of his sin of leaving without telling her.

Kendrick rapped her knuckles twice upon the doorframe, interrupting Cora's reverie. "You'll be late for breakfast, miss." Her voice was shot through with barely concealed ire.

"Oh!" Cora exclaimed, unaware of how much she'd dawdled. Making a few more passes over her skin with the soapy sponge, she climbed out of the bath so Kendrick could wrap her in a towel and help her dry off.

The lady's maid's efficiency aided in making sure that Cora did not arrive late to breakfast. As it happened, she walked in as Patrick sat down and Robert turned from the buffet with his filled plate. Cora paused just inside the doorway when Robert's eyes met hers. They shared a smile before she had to look down, blushing. She heard his barely audible clearing of the throat while Patrick rustled his newspaper. Raising her eyes, she perceived that she wasn't the only person in the room blushing. Robert kept his gaze on his plate as he sat beside his father at the breakfast table.

"Good morning, Princess."

Cora turned as her father entered behind her, grasping her gently by the upper arms and kissing her cheek. "Good morning, Poppa," she said.

"Did you sleep well?" Isidore walked with his daughter.

She flicked her eyes to Robert. She could tell he was eavesdropping, which she didn't mind in this instance. "Yes, Poppa, very well." Glancing at Robert again, she saw him relax perceptibly.

After filling their plates, Isidore sat on Patrick's other side, and Cora sat next to him. Patrick finally seemed to realize that they were there and put down his newspaper. "Good morning, Isidore, Cora." He smiled warmly at her.

Isidore beamed. Cora knew that her father and Robert's got along famously, for which she was happy. It made a change from how her mother and Violet got along. "Patrick, Robert, good morning. And, I see, Lady Rosamund. Good morning," he greeted her as she swept into the dining room, yawning.

"Good morning, Mr. Levinson. Everyone." She winked at Cora before helping herself to breakfast.

Cora raised her head from her breakfast plate, feeling eyes upon her. A half nervous, half excited thrill went through her to see Robert gazing at her with a smile.

"So, Cora, how are you feeling?" Rosamund draped her serviette across her lap as Cora tore her eyes from Robert's.

"Feeling?" She fidgeted slightly in her chair, a stab of panic hitting her, remembering her soreness from earlier.

Rosamund put down her tea cup. "Yes, you know, the day before the wedding. Nerves and all that. No danger of your getting cold feet is there?" She grinned, and Cora saw that she was teasing her.

Cora chose her words carefully, knowing Robert weighed every one of them. "I suppose I'm a trifle nervous, yes. But less so than yesterday, I think." She flicked her eyes to Robert, whose smile had widened at her words.

Chuckling, Rosamund buttered her toast. "Well, I'm sure Mama had nothing to do with easing your nerves, did she?"

Patrick, who had vanished behind his paper once more, growled, "Rosamund, don't stir."

Rosamund shook her head, still grinning. "I don't do it, Papa. It's Mama's doing."

"All the same…." He turned a page.

Cora felt a hand upon hers, and looked over at her father. His expression conveyed a mixture of empathy, amusement, and comfort. She smiled at him reassuringly, turning her hand over to grasp his for a moment before letting go so she could continue her breakfast. He nodded at her, and picked up his fork and knife.

In the next moment, Cora saw that Robert had been watching them. He hastily turned his attention back his breakfast, apparently abashed to be caught. Cora smiled to herself and ate with gusto, their exertions from the night before having made her hungrier than she could have imagined.

Robert got up from the table first, and, catching Cora's eye, made a surreptitious motion with his hand. Cora didn't understand. Drawing her brows together, she shook her head at him. Heaving a silent sigh, he repeated the motion. Cora tilted her head at him, still mystified.

"Oh, for God's sake," Rosamund exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "Cora, my brother wishes to speak to you in private." She put another bite of ham in her mouth.

"Thank you, Rosamund, for announcing it to the whole breakfast table." He threw an annoyed glance at her back before spinning around and marching out the door.

Cora's face grew flushed. She sat there, unsure what to do.

"Princess," Isidore said, chuckling, "go on. The remainder of your breakfast will wait."

Giving him a bit of a smile, Cora leaned over to kiss his cheek, then let the footman pull her chair out for her. Leaving her serviette in her chair, she swept out of the room, noting that Patrick hadn't even lowered his paper.

As Cora stepped into the hallway, she felt Robert's hand on her arm. "Might we go into the drawing room?" he asked in a low voice.

"Of course, Robert." She followed him into that room and watched him shift his weight from one foot to the other as he wrung his hands in front of him. "What's wrong?"

Robert stopped wringing his hands and fastened his eyes on hers. "I just wanted to make sure that you were alright. After – after last night." He spoke in nearly a whisper, and Cora took a step closer to hear. "I felt bad about not saying goodnight to you before I left, but you slept so peacefully…."

The guilt in his voice soothed her heart like a balm. If she hadn't already forgiven him, she would have now. She smiled at him and touched his hand. "Robert, it's alright. I understand. But, just so you know, I'd prefer you wake me next time." His eyes brightened considerably, and he even gave her a little grin. "I'll go back and finish my breakfast, and I'll see you later on." She leaned forward and brushed a kiss over his cheek before returning to the dining room, feeling much lighter than she had when she'd woken.

* * *

Poking her tongue out of the side of her mouth, Cora worked her needle into a knot in the thread on the underside of her embroidery. She sat in the drawing room an hour or so before luncheon, everyone else busy elsewhere. Reading would be impossible for her, the number of things that raced through her mind, but her embroidery proved almost as difficult. She kept pulling her needle through at the wrong place and getting the threads twisted and knotted.

Sighing, about to give up, her head jerked up as her mother sashayed into the room and sat herself down next to her daughter on the settee.

"Mother? I thought you and Poppa were busy with preparations to return home." Cora replaced her needlework neatly into its basket.

Martha rolled her eyes dramatically. "I was summoned by Empress Violet for a meeting of 'the utmost importance in the drawing room.'" Her impersonation of Violet, though exaggerated, sounded spot on otherwise.

"I wish you wouldn't call her that, Mother."

Leaning forward with a smile, Martha waved in the maid with a tea trolley. "Oh good. I'm starved. You can leave that right here in front of me, young woman," Martha said, by way of dismissing the girl.

Cora drew her brows together. "Didn't you eat breakfast?"

Martha shook her head, pouring a cup of tea and picking up a cake. "_That_ is not what I call breakfast. I truly hope you don't starve living here, darling." She made a face as she drank some of the tea. "I miss coffee," she said disconsolately.

Although agreeing with her, Cora didn't say so. "If Lady Grantham asked you to come here, where is she?"

"_She_," came Violet's voice from the doorway, startling Cora, "is right here." She dragged a baffled Robert into the room with her, shutting the door behind them. "Oh, good," she sneered, staring at Martha and the tea trolley. "Mrs. Levinson has her refreshments."

Martha didn't bat an eyelash. "As an impeccable hostess, you wouldn't want to a guest to go without, would you, Violet?"

Violet cringed. Cora knew she hated that her mother insisted on using everyone's first names.

"Mama," Robert piped up. "You're pinching my arm. Might you let me go and tell me what this is all about?"

Cora watched Violet let go of him begrudgingly. "Yes," Martha added, "I'd like to know what this is about as well. It must be something serious if our husbands haven't been invited to the party." She raised her eyes to Violet's.

"This is a delicate matter, and I did not want them involved until I know what is going on." Violet remained standing as Robert sat across from Martha and Cora.

"My, my, it sounds intriguing," Martha said. "Do tell, Violet." She drew out the name, impervious to the cold glance of the owner of it, and picked up a sandwich.

Rolling her eyes slightly at Martha, Violet transferred her glare to Cora. "Well, young woman, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Cora colored, her heart beginning to pound. "I – I don't know what you mean." And, honestly, she didn't. What could she have done to rouse Violet's indignation?

"Well, you've obviously chosen one of the footmen to dally with." Her voice dripped with disdain – and something else. As Cora studied her face, she recognized it as satisfaction.

Her hand flew to her throat, and she looked over at Robert, whose jaw had dropped. "I don't understand. There's no one. I don't want anyone else." Again, she answered someone else's question, but her words were meant for Robert.

Martha interrupted, her eyes narrowed at Violet. "Just a minute, Violet. That is a serious accusation. What makes you think Cora's 'dallying,' as you say, with anyone?"

"I've been informed that there was a significant amount of blood upon her sheets this morning, as well as her night dress. And that…." Violet rarely colored or hesitated, Cora knew, but the presence of her son in the room appeared to give her pause, since she glanced at him nervously before throwing her head back and continuing. "Her undergarments weren't where they should have been upon being awoken." Despite her obvious mortification at having to disclose this information aloud, her lips still curved upward in a snarl of triumph.

Cora's hand had moved from her throat to cover her mouth, and she exchanged a look of alarm with Robert. As relieved as she was that he knew exactly what this was all about now, she also wondered how on earth they were to explain themselves.

Leaning back upon the settee with another tea cake, Martha shrugged, seemingly indifferent to this evidence. "And why do you automatically jump to the conclusion that Cora has been with a man? There are myriad other explanations for blood on her sheets. As for the undergarments, I often shed mine in the night when I'm too hot."

The other three in the room forgot everything else momentarily to gape at Martha, who didn't even look up from stirring a liberal amount of sugar and lemon into a fresh cup of tea.

"Mother!" Cora exclaimed, mortified, while at the same time grateful beyond words that her mother hadn't assumed the worst of her.

Martha went on as if there had been no pause, pulling another face at her tea. "As for the blood, she could have begun her monthly cycle."

Cora sneaked a glance at Robert, whose countenance could not have been a greater study in embarrassment. Her own visage had turned so warm she thought if she put a piece of paper to her cheek, it might actually catch fire.

Violet shook herself out of the shock of Martha's unlikely confession and addressed her recent statement. "No. My maid assured me that was not the case."

Martha's voice became dangerous, and she looked Violet directly in the eye. "Maybe your maid lies."

Offended, Violet stiffened and pointed at Cora. She spat out, "My maid doesn't lie. Look at your daughter. The look on her face proves everything."

Cora lowered her eyes, ashamed.

"I still don't see how that proves a thing. I'd be willing to believe my daughter _murdered_ a footman in her bed over welcoming one into it." Martha shrugged again and picked up another teacake. "I suggest you count your footmen. I think Cora would be quite able to move a dead body if she needed to."

Her mouth opening and closing in astonishment at her mother's words, Cora attempted to say something, anything, but nothing would come out. When she focused her eyes upon Robert, she could see that he was struck just as speechless as she.

"You're taking this very lightly, Mrs. Levinson. If I'm proved right, this marriage will be called off." Violet allowed herself to smirk once more.

Martha shook her head slowly. "Oh, I don't think so. For one thing, your estate desperately needs my daughter's money. For another thing, you might look to your own son for an explanation."

The three women turned to Robert, his face panic-stricken, his light blue eyes guilty.

"It's preposterous!" Violet cried out. "Absolutely ludicrous! Besides the fact that Robert is a Crawley and a gentleman, the bolt was locked on Cora's side!"

Martha snickered. "And what difference does that make? He could have gone into her room through the other door. She could have bolted it back after he'd left. Honestly, Violet, you're grasping at straws."

Violet shook with anger now. Cora imagined smoke pouring out of her ears because of the aspersions Martha cast upon her son. Just as Violet opened her mouth – probably to fling another scathing remark at Martha – Robert unexpectedly stepped forward. "Mama."

Her head snapped round to look at him. "Robert?" The color drained from her face.

Robert turned to Cora. She gave him a nod, recognizing that there was no way out of it now, and he faced his mother again. "I was the one in Cora's room last night. She closed the bolt after I left. I am the reason there was blood on her sheets." He locked eyes with Cora, and she saw yet again how deeply he'd regretted having to hurt her – especially now he knew there'd been blood.

Violet stepped over to a chair and sank down into it in disbelief. Then she shook herself and lifted her eyes to glare once more at Cora. "I'm sure you encouraged him. He never would have come to you before the wedding night otherwise. I told you not to unbolt the door, did I not?" She lowered her eyes, muttering under her breath, "It's only a matter of time before she lets others in as well."

However, her last sentence was still loud enough for everyone to hear. As Cora's mouth gaped open, tears coming to her eyes, Martha jumped up, finally furious, and Robert came closer to his mother. "Mama, that's enough," Robert growled, as Martha shouted, "Now wait just a damn minute!"

The three began speaking all at once, Robert's low growl an undertone for the two women's higher pitched voices. Cora's head began to spin. She stood now as well, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, and yelled at the top of her lungs, "Stop!"

All three immediately stopped and stared at her. Martha merely looked somewhat amused, while Violet was manifestly shocked at Cora's outburst. Robert's face, while registering astonishment initially, glowed with a sort of pride in his fiancée, as if he knew that she had reached her breaking point and was ready to defend herself, no matter the other consequences. He had told Cora once that he admired this in her – both her patience and her willingness to realize when patience no longer served her.

"While I appreciate the tradition of waiting until the wedding night to have the relations meant for husband and wife, what goes on in my bedroom is my business – mine and Robert's. And since he doesn't have any problem with what went on, I don't see why anyone else should either – or why anyone else should know." Cora's breath came in great puffs in her effort to keep her voice even. "We are hardly children anymore, and we are fully capable of making our own decisions."

Violet stood again, rising to her full height and squaring her chin. "Children or not, you, young woman, do not know the demands of this life. You Americans are all the same; just look at what that woman did to the Churchills," she said derisively.

Robert turned to his mother before Cora could respond. "And I, Mama? Are you saying I don't know the demands of this life? You conveniently forget that two people made a decision, not one." He never raised his voice, but spoke firmly enough to make his vexation quite clear. "And before you say a word about Cora encouraging me, I will have you know that _I_ asked her to open the door, and _I_ wanted to sit closer to her, and _I_ suggested… well, er, that we do more than talk." He became flushed. "Don't blame Cora, Mama." He turned his face to Cora. "We decided together."

Cora gave him a small smile, her chest swelling up with happiness at his insistence about the situation to his mother. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her own mother sit down once more and sip her tea, a smug look upon her face.

Violet couldn't seem to let it go. "And how do I know you haven't done this already? The Church–"

Interrupting with a noisy snort, Martha selected another sandwich. "The blood, Violet? You don't have to worry about your son being the object of lewd speculation like Lord Randolph. Even if Cora _did_ become pregnant last night, what does it matter? The wedding's tomorrow." She waved a hand. "Besides, isn't that important in these marriages?" She fixed Violet with a look of exaggerated inquiry, her voice slightly sarcastic now. "You can wed my daughter to your son with proof ahead of time that she's – how would you put it? – unsullied."

Cora went bright red again. "Mother…" she hissed.

Violet threw her hands up. "I can't sit here anymore and listen to this. Robert, I am utterly displeased and disappointed in you. And, Miss Levinson – I'm still convinced you enticed him somehow into behaving in such a manner. Mrs. Levinson –" Staring at Cora's mother, who continued to munch on sandwiches and scones, Violet merely made a gesture of defeat and hastened from the room.

Robert dropped into a chair and put his head in his hands.

"Are you alright, Robert?" Martha asked. "Do you need some tea?"

"No," he answered, his voice slightly muffled. "I need something considerably stronger."

"Might you bring something back for me as well? I prefer a little soda in mine." Martha simply blinked at him expectantly when he lifted his head up to fix her with a bemused look. She waved her hand toward the door. "Go on now."

With a quick glance at Cora, Robert departed for the library.

Cora hadn't moved, but now she sank down next to her mother. "I – I…." She didn't know what to say.

"Cora, how could you have been so careless?" Martha inquired, abandoning the tea tray and shifting her body to face her daughter's.

Meeting her mother's eyes, Cora's brimmed with tears. "Are you disappointed in me too, Mother?" she whispered. "I wanted – I wanted to be close to him."

Martha took her hand. "Darling, I wasn't speaking of that. Of course you want to be close to him. I understand that completely." She lowered her voice. "Your father and I didn't wait. Harold was a good week 'early.'" Her eyes sparkled at her daughter, and she pulled her handkerchief out of her pocket, dabbing at Cora's cheeks. "You've done nothing wrong, and I don't want that woman to make you feel you have."

Cora sniffled and tilted her head in confusion. "Then why did you call me careless?"

Clucking her tongue, Martha grinned. "Leaving your drawers on the floor? Letting the maid see blood on the sheets, on your night dress?"

Blushing, Cora looked down at their hands while her mother finished wiping her tears away. "I didn't realize… I didn't think she'd seen the drawers. And I – I didn't know there would be blood. You didn't say, so I didn't think to look."

"Well, then, darling." Martha laughed. "I suppose it's Mother's fault that you got caught, isn't it." She bent Cora's head down to kiss her forehead.

"Don't be silly." Cora smiled at her for a moment, then lowered her eyes again, the smile disappearing. "Mother, you're not – you're not going to tell Poppa, are you?"

"Like you said, Cora, what happens in your bedroom is no one's business but your own – yours and Robert's. As far as I'm concerned, unless something happens where he _needs_ to know, it's none of his business either."

"Thank you, Mother." She pressed her mother's hand and sat with her for a moment in silence. "May I ask you something?"

"Of course you may, my dear."

"Do you truly think me capable of moving a dead body if I needed to?" Cora felt mirth rising in her, remembering her mother's words.

But instead of laughing, Martha fixed Cora with a very serious gaze. "Cora, you are a Levinson, and you are our daughter. I believe you capable of anything you put your mind on." Having dropped the handkerchief, she touched her daughter's cheek tenderly, smiling. "Don't forget that."

Robert paused in the doorway, coughing politely. "Come in, come in, Robert," Martha said, moving her hand from Cora's face to accept her drink. His glass appeared half empty already.

He looked down at Cora in concern. "Are you alright, Cora?"

She smiled up at him. "Yes. I'm fine. Are you?"

Sitting down, Robert took another drink and cocked his head a bit. "Apart from being somewhat flustered by the entire thing – and being found out by my mother – I think…. I think yes." As he gazed at her, he began to smile. "I believe you held your own admirably, Cora. And, you're right. Whatever happens between us in private is our own business."

Martha lifted her glass. "Hear, hear, Robert."

Robert lifted his glass too, and they nodded at one another before drinking. Cora smiled upon them both. It pleased her to know they were united in something, as they usually didn't get along as well as she would have liked.

Staring into her drink, Martha squeezed Cora's hand. "And, just think, darling – if you can't get rid of the body yourself, you have someone to help you."

Cora began laughing, Robert staring between them both in bewilderment. Shrugging, he drained his glass. "I can't finish what I had been doing before lunch, so, Cora, fancy a walk in the garden?" He stood and held his arm out to her.

Feeling her expression soften, she kissed her mother on the cheek and rose from the settee to take his arm. "Thank you again, Mother," she said as they left together.

"All part of being a mother," Martha called after them.

"Speaking of which," Robert said quietly out of the corner of his mouth, "I hadn't really put much thought into it, but… Cora, you might already be carrying our child."

"How do you feel about that?" she ventured somewhat nervously.

He stopped them halfway to the foyer and, keeping hold of her arm, looked around at her. "A bit frightened, in a way. But also overjoyed." He smiled at her then, a dazzling sort of smile that made her heart skip a beat.

"I'm glad to hear that," she whispered, returning his smile. "I think I would feel the same, Robert." Cora blinked back tears as they resumed walking toward the front door, arm in arm.

* * *

Cora achieved a strange sort of satisfaction from seeing Kendrick's face as she helped her change for the afternoon. It went from not-so-cautiously disguised astonishment that the young lady hadn't been sent packing (Cora suspected she would have been perfectly happy and not a bit surprised if she were helping her fill her trunks on her way back to America) to tight-lipped condescension.

Apparently, Kendrick had decided that her mistress hadn't confronted Cora yet with the information, because she seemed astounded yet again when she was called to help with the evening change for dinner. And when Cora came up to retire for the evening, rather later than Violet had gone to bed, the maid looked as if she could spit nails.

Cora merely smiled sweetly at Kendrick and hummed as she applied lotion to her hands and arms. The maid jerked the brush through Cora's hair, prompting her to say, "Careful there. I'm getting married tomorrow, and I don't think my new father-in-law will be pleased if I'm bald."

She said this nicely enough, but she fixed Kendrick with a grave stare in the mirror as she continued to rub lotion over her elbows. Violet might not care if Kendrick was cruel to Cora, and Robert might care but have no power to do anything about it, but if Patrick heard about any unkindness to Cora on the maid's part, he would have no qualms about dismissing her.

Setting her jaw stubbornly, her eyes filled with fire she now had to control, Kendrick mumbled, "Yes, Miss Levinson. I beg your pardon; there was a knot."

"Well, if you come upon any more knots, let me know, and _I'll_ take care of it." Cora's tone brooked no argument; she saw the glint of understanding in Kendrick's face. This young lady wasn't about to take any more nonsense from a maid. No matter whose maid she may be.

Kendrick behaved – grudgingly, Cora could tell – while she finished getting Cora ready for bed. She gathered laundry and started for the door.

"Oh, and, Kendrick?" Cora waited until the maid turned to her, her hand upon the doorknob. She smiled widely. "If there is anything wrong with my dress or shoes or any other element of my attire tomorrow, I'll know exactly who to ask about it."

Coloring, Kendrick bobbed slightly. "Everything will be as it should be, Miss Levinson."

Cora grinned to herself as the maid scrambled out of the room. "God, I'll be glad to be rid of that one," she muttered.

Once she'd taken one last look in the mirror, satisfied with her appearance, Cora went over to the dividing door and knocked softly. She stared at the bolt, then pulled it open. She decided that one of the first things she would do, once she had the power to do it, was have someone remove the ridiculous thing.

"Cora?" came Robert's voice through the door.

"Yes, Robert. I thought you might like to come in," Cora said.

"No, no, I don't think so."

"Robert, are you seriously saying you don't want to see me?"

"Well, I do, but – Cora, we've already gotten in enough trouble."

Cora laughed. "Robert, don't be absurd. The damage is already done. What's the harm now? Didn't you agree that whatever happens in here is between the two of us?"

"Yes, and I meant it, but, Cora…."

"What? What's wrong?" She placed her hand upon the door, wanting so much to see him.

"Isn't it bad luck for me to see you now? Before the wedding?"

"Robert? Do you really believe in such superstition?"

"No. Not really." Cora could hear the smile in his voice.

"I'm not suggesting, well, that you, that we…." She took a deep breath, running her fingers over the decorations of the door. "I simply wanted to see you. To kiss you goodnight. Is that too much for your bride to ask of you?"

"No, I suppose it isn't. But, Cora, we do need to get some sleep."

"I understand, Robert." She paused. "I've unbolted the door."

For a moment, Cora heard nothing but silence.

Then – "Yes. I'd like to come in."

Cora grinned and turned the doorknob. The door wouldn't budge. "Robert? It won't open."

"Oh." She heard him chuckle. "I didn't unbolt my side." There was the low scrape of the bolt.

She opened the door, putting her hands on her hips. "You have a bolt on your side too?"

"Of course I do," he said, looking warily at her stance.

"I think I'm offended."

Robert's brows drew together. "_I_ didn't install the bolt."

"No, but you had it closed." She tried to maintain her stern expression, but found it difficult when he had such a look of disquiet upon his face.

"I – I'm sorry." His contrition showed plainly.

Cora turned and sashayed farther into the room. "Come in and close the door, Robert," she threw over her shoulder. "I'll forgive you if you kiss me."

Smiling a little, he stepped into the room and shut the door as requested. "You'll forgive me if I kiss you?"

Spinning around, playing with the ties of her dressing gown, she nodded. "Well, and if you promise not to bolt your door again."

He grinned now. "I promise."

Cora gasped in delight when he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her. Bending his head down, he crushed his mouth to hers, kissing her with a tenderness that was new to her. When he pulled away, she reached up to caress his cheek, smiling. "That seemed more like a kiss hello than a kiss goodnight."

"Well, I suppose I'll have to try again, won't I?"

Robert rubbed his lips over hers, reminding Cora of their first kiss in a secluded garden alcove. Her heart sped up as she slid her arms around his neck, pulling him closer and weaving her fingers into his dark curls. She sighed happily against his lips, feeling the still surprising tug between her thighs as he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth.

Then Cora felt something else. Breaking the kiss, she leaned back, her arms still around his neck, looking at him. "Robert?" she whispered.

He looked sheepish. "I can't help it, Cora. I don't think you realize just how much you excite me." Robert brought one of his hands around to cup her face. "If you want me to go, I will."

"Robert, it was you who didn't want to open the door," she pointed out with a grin, stroking his hair.

Lowering his head, he whispered in her ear, "Cora, do you think we could practice again before the 'big night'? Or would that be too much?"

"Oh, Robert," Cora breathed. "We can practice just as much as you'd like. Just so long as your mother's maid doesn't find you here in the morning."

"It sounds like a suitable compromise," Robert said, snaking his hand down to fondle a breast.

With a sharp intake of breath, Cora closed her eyes and gave in to the sensations flooding her body. She would have liked to have touched him, given him more pleasure if she could, but she wasn't sure how it would be received. So she let him continue to do as he pleased to her, completely content to be close to him. Soon, he was kissing her again, and she couldn't suppress another sigh of happiness.

"Cora?" Robert whispered, his hands stilling for a moment.

"Yes, Robert?" she asked, opening her eyes and searching his.

"I hope you know that I want you to be happy. I… I…" he hesitated.

Cora held her breath, thinking that perhaps he would finally say what she wanted so desperately for him to say.

"I'm not sure I could be happy if you weren't," Robert finished finally.

It wasn't exactly what she'd hoped for, but it was something. Cora kissed him gently, then said, "Then I hope I'm happy. Because I want you to be happy too, Robert. And right now, I'm happy in your arms. So kiss me again. And again and again. Because tomorrow –" she smiled at him with such bliss at the thought – "tomorrow I'm to be your wife."

So Robert kissed her. Again and again. Until the wee small hours of the morning. Then, as she'd requested, he woke her with yet another kiss. "Get some more sleep, Cora, and we'll be man and wife in just a few hours." Robert kissed her once more before gathering his night clothes and disappearing behind his bedroom door.

Yawning contentedly, Cora made sure she had her drawers on before falling into a peaceful sleep, dreaming of what it might mean to be Robert's wife.


	3. I chose you

The carriage passed under myriad garlands of autumn flowers in shades of gold and orange, of white and purple and softer yellow, which hung over the village road. The villagers themselves lined the narrow street, waving as the carriage went by. Cora, watching through the window, clutched her father's hand tighter.

"Princess?"

Cora turned to him with a small smile. Her father looked as handsome as she thought she'd ever seen him, but she knew it wasn't to impress the Crawleys. It was because he wanted to honor her, his only daughter. She struggled to hold back tears.

Isidore touched gloved fingers to her face. "You know, if you are having any doubts, any whatsoever, we can turn the carriage around right now, go back to Downton, collect our things and be on the next boat home."

"Poppa, you know we can't do that. The papers are all signed, and we're on our way to the church." She lowered her eyes to her ivory satin gown, one of the most beautiful she'd ever owned. All she could think of was whether Robert would like it as much as she did.

Lifting her chin to fasten her with a serious expression, Isidore said in a grave voice, "Cora, those papers are only valid if you actually get married. I know you agreed to stay here, to marry Robert, and, while I'm not against it, I wanted you to know that I would not love you any less if you decided right now that it wasn't for you. It's momentous, what you're undertaking, but you still have a choice."

Cora swallowed against the lump in her throat, studying her father's face carefully. She knew he'd been much less enthusiastic than her mother had been about her coming to England and marrying someone titled. But she could also see in his visage that he would be happy for her if she was happy. "I know it won't be easy, fitting into this life. But, Poppa, I love him." Giving a bit of a shrug, she smiled.

"Then I see, Princess, that your decision truly has been made." Pressing her hand, he leaned over and kissed her forehead. "I hope you know how proud I am of you, darling girl. And not because you'll be 'her ladyship.'" He grinned, stroking her cheek. "But because you are the best of your mother and the best of me combined. I hope Robert knows just how lucky he is."

"Poppa, you'll make me cry. I should save some tears for the altar." Cora chuckled lightly as her father used his glove to dry her face.

Isidore touched his forehead to his daughter's, closing his eyes. "I think, Cora, that if you didn't have some tears to shed over your Poppa on your wedding day, then I'd wonder if I'd helped give you a happy childhood and made sure you knew how much you mean to me. You'll always be my little princess."

Unable to speak any more, Cora threw her arms around her father, hugging him tightly to her. Finally, as she felt the carriage come to a stop and heard cheering outside of it, she drew back and whispered, "I love you, Poppa. Thank you."

Retrieving his handkerchief from his pocket, he patted her tears away, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his broad smile. "Perhaps we'll request that the photographer capture this moment _after_ the wedding." He chuckled.

Cora pinched his arm, but gently. "You're horrible sometimes." She laughed.

"Now, that's the smile I wanted to see." Kissing her cheek, he glanced behind him to where a footman held open his door. "Let me just…." Isidore carefully lifted the delicate fabric of her veil and drew it down over her face. "If Robert Crawley doesn't gasp in awe when he sees you, then I might have to get a doctor to examine that boy."

"Oh, Poppa," Cora said as he climbed out of the carriage to come around and help her out on her side.

The walk into the church went by in a blur, and Cora clung to her father's arm as if for life. She thought of the note she had wrapped around her bouquet as they stood in the entryway, waiting for their cue. The small bit of paper had been pushed under the dividing door, and Kendrick found it when she woke Cora to get washed and dressed. Cora blushed, remembering the words scrawled in Robert's still unfamiliar hand. _Do you know what makes me happy?_ the note had read, _It makes me happy you chose me. Of all the others you could have had. You chose me. I hope you know, Cora, that I chose you too. And I would again._

"Is everything alright, Princess?" her father asked.

"Yes, Poppa. Everything is fine. I'm ready." Cora smiled over at him, grasping his arm tighter and letting him lead her into the sanctuary, down the aisle.

Everyone stood, watching the bride enter on her father's arm. But, apart from sparing a smile for her mother and Harold, Cora had eyes only for Robert. And, from what she could tell, he had eyes only for her. Keeping her gaze upon her groom, she leaned close to her father's ear. "I suppose you won't have to take Robert to see a physician after all," she whispered.

Feeling the deep rumble of his chuckle and the press of his arm, Cora grinned and blushed anew at Robert's wide smile. Running one finger slightly over the bit of paper, she waited for her father to give her away – knowing that she'd already given herself away, heart and body, to the man who stood to her right, his eyes bright with happiness, if not love. Cora would take it. For now, it would be enough.

* * *

After a few photographs had been taken, Robert assisted Cora into the carriage that would take them back to Downton. Once they were settled, Robert smiled at her and lifted her hand to kiss it.

"Did you receive my note?"

Cora opened her other hand, in which she still held the paper, even though the bouquet had been entrusted to Rosamund for the journey home. She smiled and lowered her eyes. "It was wonderful to see that this morning – since I couldn't see you."

Robert's fingers curled around her hand, pressing it. "Well, I wanted you to know."

"Thank you, Robert. I would choose you again too." She leaned forward and brushed her lips across his cheek.

"I'm glad for that, Cora." His eyes swept over her appreciatively. "You look nearly as beautiful as you did the first night I approached you for a dance."

Chuckling lightly, Cora raised her brows. "You approached me for a number of dances, in fact. And – 'nearly'?"

Robert nodded, his face serious. "Yes, nearly. Because you'd just come off the dance floor and you were delightfully flushed and out of breath, and your eyes were still dancing."

Blushing, Cora looked down with a grin. "Is that so?"

Kissing her hand again, Robert then bent his head closer to whisper. "It is. But, I have a feeling that later on, at some point during the reception, I'll be changing my mind."

Cora drew in her breath sharply, pleased, her heart racing.

Unfortunately, the carriage had travelled much quicker on the way back to Downton than it had to the church, and they arrived at the front door at just this juncture. Footmen opened their doors, and she and Robert exchanged smiles before leaving the carriage.

People gathered in the great hall and the other areas of the house that had been opened for the reception. The rest of the family had already arrived, and Cora could see her new mother-in-law eyeing with disdain the flowers she and her mother had chosen for the occasion. Sighing, Cora took a firmer grip upon Robert's arm as people approached them with congratulations and best wishes.

Cora did her utmost to push far into the back of her mind Violet's withering glances and disapproving pursing of the lips. But it bothered her. Couldn't Violet at least attempt to accept them now? They were married. Cora wasn't going anywhere. And if her mother-in-law couldn't accept her, might she at least pretend she would while they entertained a houseful of guests – guests who were there to celebrate the marriage of her son?

Throughout the afternoon and into the evening, there was dancing and exquisite food and wedding cake, talking and visiting and laughing, and more dancing. Cora saved several dances for her father, had one with her brother, and even danced with Patrick twice. But the waltzes, she knew, were reserved. Her breath caught every time Robert approached her to take her hand and lead her onto the floor. She could feel everyone watching them, Lord Downton and his new lady wife. But when his arm encircled her waist and they waltzed around the room, everyone else fell away.

As twilight fell, they ended another dance, and Robert tugged her off the floor. "It's a little too warm in here, don't you think?"

Cora smiled at him. "Yes. Perhaps we should get some air?" The way he looked at her made it even more difficult to breathe in the stifling ballroom.

Nodding, Robert led her through the sea of guests and out the front door, the butler opening it and closing it again behind them. He took her to the gardens. Lanterns had been strung along the path, and footmen were lighting them even as she and Robert strolled along. After they'd gone beyond the lighted portion, his arm stole around her waist and her heart pounded.

"Robert, should we go this far? What if we get lost?"

His soft chuckle reached her ears as he pressed her closer. "Cora, you forget that this is my home, where I grew up. I know these gardens like the back of my hand. And I wanted to take you away from prying eyes for a while."

Cora peered at him through the purple twilight. "Did you?" Her tone teased now.

Robert stopped, stepping in front of her, his arm still round her waist. "Yes. Because just now, as we came off the dance floor, you surpassed in beauty the image I had from that first night. And that ringlet of hair –" he reached a hand up to wrap it around his fingers – "has escaped its bonds once more and proved far too tempting for me. I can't do this…." He bent his head to kiss her mouth a moment, then whispered, "Or this…." Here he bent his head further, drawing the ringlet away from her neck and replacing it with his lips. "…when so many people are following our every move," he finished finally, keeping her pressed against him.

"If you continue along like that, Robert, I won't be able to go back into the party and not blush every time you catch my eye." She felt quite breathless.

"How do you know that wasn't my goal?" He flashed a wide smile at her.

Cora let out a gentle laugh. "Well, this is no way to cool down, is it?"

"No, I suppose it isn't," he admitted. "Shall I release you?"

"Not for another moment or two, please, Robert. It'll be a while before we can go upstairs, and I like to have your arm around me this way."

Robert tightened his hold a trifle, still playing with the errant ringlet of hair. "Good, because I like it too. Might you let me kiss you again, Mrs. Crawley?"

Cora leaned into his chest a little more. "Yes, please, my dear husband." It was the closest she'd come to telling him she loved him since her admission several weeks before. She couldn't let the day go completely by without at least hinting at it.

Apparently, Robert didn't catch the implication of her words, but concentrated on crushing his mouth to hers, kissing her intently. Finally, he ended the kiss, pulling back reluctantly and loosening his hold on her waist. "As much as I would like to continue that, Cora, I do think we should cool off a little, and then go back inside. Otherwise Mama might come looking for us herself." He chuckled.

But Cora wasn't amused. "She would, wouldn't she?"

"Well, we do have houseful of guests, come to celebrate with us. We have a part to play."

She was unable to stop her sigh. Robert looked at her in concern. "No, it's alright, Robert. I understand what I married into. It's simply going to take some adjusting to go from being the carefree young woman to the married viscountess with perpetual duties. Even on her wedding day."

"Cora, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, please. It's not your fault, after all. I chose it. I chose you." She touched his cheek tenderly, to reassure him, smiling a little. "And I would again, as I said earlier."

"And I still feel the same." Ignoring his own warning, he bent his head to kiss her again.

Soon Cora was reaching up to wrap her arms about his neck, stroking the back of his head and sighing against his lips.

Suddenly, a voice broke through the spell Robert had woven upon her with his kiss. "Violet, for God's sake, leave the poor newlyweds alone," Patrick hissed.

Breaking away from her, Robert looked at her apologetically and sighed, caressing her face one last time before his parents were upon them. He took a step away from her and stood at his full height. Cora was uncertain whether to be proud of him or mad at him.

Violet's shrill voice pierced the near darkness. "Robert Crawley! What are you doing cavorting out here in the garden? Guests are leaving!"

Patrick shook his head. "They were hardly cavorting, Violet. There's nothing wrong with them getting some air and stealing a few kisses." He threw a small wink at his son.

The smile that had been about to cross Cora's lips faded at Violet's harrumph. "There is something most assuredly wrong when they should be inside to bid their guests goodnight. Lord and Lady Pardue have already left, despite how rude it is to leave this early." Violet shot her daughter-in-law a hard glance, as if it were somehow her fault.

Sighing, Patrick countered, "Lady Pardue hasn't felt well all day. And considering how close she is to her confinement, you should be honored the pair of them were here at all."

"That is beside the point," Violet retorted. "Robert and Miss– er – _she_ should have been there to thank them for coming."

Cora glanced from Violet to Patrick during this exchange, sneaking peeks at Robert, who watched his parents as well.

Patrick turned to Cora with a smile. "Your father was looking for you, Cora. He wanted at least another dance before we sit down to dinner. Might I escort you inside?"

Catching the small nod from Robert, Cora took her father-in-law's arm. As they ambled up the path, toward the lanterns, she heard Violet say, "Well, Robert? _She_ is only American, but you should know better." Her voice faded away, Cora hearing nothing from Robert to defend himself. She knew how to feel now. Disappointed.

"I apologize, Lord Grantham," Cora said quietly as they walked.

"Whatever for, my dear? You've done nothing wrong. Violet gets very uptight when we have this many guests. Technically, your parents and we are the hosts – not you and Robert."

Cora nodded. "Thank you for saying that, my lord."

Patrick chuckled. "I think we can be done with that sort of formality. You're part of our family now. You can all me 'Papa.'"

"Oh, I don't know. What would Lady Grantham say?" Cora bit her lip nervously, recalling the look of scorn she'd just given her a few moments ago.

"Fortunately, Cora, it doesn't matter, as you're not calling _her_ 'Papa,' are you?" They reached the part of the path where lanterns flooded it with a soft glow.

"No, but –" Cora sighed. "Will she always be so against me?"

Cora could see, out of the corner of her eye, his head bow. "You have to understand, Cora. My wife is a very stubborn woman, and she feels that in allowing you into our family, we betrayed her. I think she is angrier at us than she is at you. But she will continue to take it out on you, to blame you for not being the daughter-in-law she'd imagined for her son."

"All because I'm American." It wasn't a question, not really.

"I'm very sorry, Cora. I am. She's not the only one who will be against you, either, I'm afraid."

"Yes. I know," Cora said, nodding. "I received a great deal of vitriol in London. I don't mind them so much, though. I have a sturdy backbone."

Patrick pressed her arm warmly. "I know you do, dear. I've seen it, and I know Robert's seen it. I don't think he would have asked you if he thought you couldn't take it. He admires you a great deal."

Cora stopped them. Turning toward Patrick slightly, she fixed him with a face full of curiosity and – yes – doubt. "Does he? Many times I've thought that, but – is it enough to build a life on?"

"You're not having second thoughts now, are you, Cora?" Patrick tilted his head, drawing his brows together in concern.

"No," she asserted firmly. She lowered her eyes. "It's just – it's not quite how I imagined it when he proposed to me."

Cora felt him lean a bit closer to her, his voice low. "You mean, you had hoped for love."

She looked up, tears pricking her eyes. She gave Patrick a small smile, as his deep brown eyes reflected such a look of understanding. Nodding, she let her breath out in a long exhale.

Squeezing her hand, Patrick sighed a little. "Cora, like you, my son is still so very young. He's never been very interested in the women we put in his path – I'm not sure he's been very interested in any young woman that I could tell, to be honest. So, that he appeared to light up when he mentioned you – it speaks volumes. I've seen how you've looked at him sometimes." As Cora opened her mouth to interrupt, Patrick put up a hand, smiling softly. "No, don't deny it. I'm not always that observant, like Violet is, but I've seen it. You're still longing for something more." He patted her hand gently. "Don't despair, Cora. I think he might just fall for you yet. Until then, rest assured that I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you."

Cora blushed at this, but instead of looking down, she leaned over to press a kiss to Patrick's cheek. "Do you know, Papa, that I think I see where your son gets his charm?" She gave him what she knew must be a dazzling smile, because his speech had filled her heart with hope.

"Ah, I have my moments, Cora." Patting her hand again, he led her along the path once more, and back into the house.

As they got just inside the doorway, Cora spotted her father across the room. He raised his hand in a little wave and made his way to her, his face beaming. She turned to Patrick. "Thank you – Papa. You can't know how much it meant to hear what you said to me."

Patrick shook his head. "I just told you what I thought you should know, dear. You're a Crawley now. And Crawleys stick together. Even if Violet doesn't remember it right now." He nodded toward Isidore. "Here's your father, Cora. I'll go back out and make sure Violet hasn't murdered your groom." Winking at her, Patrick went back out through the front door, leaving her to her poppa.

Within another dance, Cora caught a glimpse of Robert and her in-laws coming back into the ballroom. Robert's entire visage lit up when he saw Cora gazing at him. But it was Patrick who came to claim the next dance. All too happy to say yes, her heart grew even lighter to see Robert ask the pleasure of her mother, Harold to partner Rosamund, and – to her great astonishment – Violet let Isidore lead her out onto the floor. For one prolonged moment before dinner, Cora finally felt as if they might be one family. She blinked back tears as Patrick guided her through the steps, her heart swelling with joy. She knew them all too well to think it could last, but, for one dance, she let herself believe it. After all – it was her wedding day.

* * *

It was also her wedding night. As Cora knew at least somewhat what to expect already, she hummed as Kendrick helped her out of her wedding gown and into the delicate champagne-colored night dress her mother had given her as a gift for this very night. She dismissed her mother-in-law's maid as quickly as Kendrick could take down her hair and braid it loosely, not caring to have her around as she completed her nightly ritual of applying lotion to her hands and arms.

After Kendrick left, Cora examined herself closely in the full-length mirror, recognizing that, although this would not be their first night together, it was their first night together as a married couple. She thought she looked particularly well and pulled her hair over one shoulder, remembering how much Robert seemed to like her dark tresses. She did so want to please him. Especially tonight.

She had just applied another drop of perfume behind each of her ears when she heard the knock on the dividing door. Smiling, she returned the glass dauber to its bottle and went to open the door, not even bothering with her dressing gown.

Robert stood there, grinning at her. He hadn't bothered with his dressing gown either. He leaned down and whispered to her. "That's a very pretty night dress, Lady Downton." Leaning even closer, he inhaled deeply. "And you smell wonderful."

Blushing, Cora took his hand and pulled him more fully into the room, and he shut the door behind him. Robert lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers, gazing at her intently. Sometimes, when he looked at her like that, acted the way he did now, Cora could at least pretend he loved her. The reality faded readily enough when he wrapped his arms around her and began teasing her lips with his. Closing her eyes, she rested her hands upon his chest, her head tilted up eagerly to accept his kisses. A shiver of pleasure danced up and down her spine as Robert's hands slid lower, to the small of her back, caressing her through the silky fabric of the night dress.

Cora slipped her fingers up and into the hair at the nape of her husband's neck as he concentrated his kisses upon her throat, then up along her jaw to her ear. She heard him breathe in her scent again, then caught her own breath when his lips closed gently around her earlobe.

"Robert," she sighed, becoming aware of his arousal between them. She wanted to touch him, as he was now touching her breast, but she wasn't sure whether he would want her to. And in the next minute he diverted her attention by carefully walking her backwards toward the bed, one hand pressing into the small of her back, the fingers of the other lightly pinching her nipple.

Gasping, Cora twisted her fingers more firmly into his hair, an incredible heat building between her thighs at his attentions. He lifted her up onto the bed and left her for only a moment to turn the lamps down very low and to go ahead and remove his clothes. Cora blinked at him in the near darkness, realizing that he'd pulled off his nightshirt, so that he was completely nude when he climbed onto the bed beside her. He hadn't done that before, and Cora couldn't take her eyes, which had adjusted somewhat to the dim light, off the broad expanse of his chest, the soft, dark hair curling there. Her breath came in short pants now, as she reached out her fingers to touch his bare chest.

"Oh God, Cora," Robert moaned, pulling her toward him and kissing her soundly. She felt him reach down and begin to lift the hem of her night dress.

"Wait," she whispered as she drew back from him.

"Cora?" He sounded somewhat confused.

Twisting around, Cora turned the lamp by her bedside down completely, leaving the pair of them in deep purple shadow. "I'm not ready for you to see me in the light just yet, Robert," she murmured. She felt a flush in her cheeks at this admission of modesty, but sat up next to him to tug her night dress over her head and let it fall to the floor, then unbuttoned and divested herself of her drawers. She knew that at least her outline was visible to him, and she heard the purring trill from his throat as he reached a hand out to glide it slowly from her shoulder and down her arm to her hand.

"Come here," he whispered, grasping her hand.

She lay down next to him, smiling as he cupped her cheek briefly, skimmed his hand over her arm again, then down over her side, her hip, her thigh, making her shudder and sigh.

"Your skin is so soft, Cora," he remarked, repeating the action, his touch gentle. Then he bent his head and kissed her, his breathing becoming more uneven. Bringing his mouth close to her ear, he said, his breath hot upon her neck, "I need you."

Cora nodded, wanting to be even closer to him than she already was. "Yes, Robert. I'm ready."

The press of his bare chest to hers made her close her eyes and hum with delight. It took a mere moment for Robert to situate his body between her legs and only one more for him to enter her with a low, lusty groan. Pausing, he slipped one arm underneath her back, and she saw his face tilt down to look at her. "Are you alright?" he asked. She realized that he still worried about hurting her, about the possibility of her being uncomfortable. This filled her with a warmth that had nothing to do with the heat between her thighs.

She placed a fingertip to his cheek. "I'm alright, my dear husband."

Hearing his intake of breath, she wondered if she'd said too much, even though she had said it once before. But, this time, he was paying attention.

However, he merely lowered his head and put his lips to hers, murmuring, "I'm glad, my sweet wife," before kissing her gently and beginning to move against her.

Cora wrapped her arms around him, her fingers pressing into the taut muscles of his back as he found a satisfying tempo, her hips responding to this rhythm. Again, she concentrated upon the sensations he created, even as his words, "my sweet wife," resounded in her head. It was the closest to an endearment she'd ever received from him, and it continued to echo as his moans and cries of pleasure rose from his throat to join it.

Once more, she felt as if she'd been so close to something potentially spectacular – something far and away beyond the other enjoyable feelings his touches gave her – as he gave a happy groan and fell still against her. Attempting to breathe normally again, she embraced him tightly, pleased when he responded in kind, tightening his arms around her.

They lay like this for a while, until Robert lifted his head and pressed a few kisses to her collarbone. Pulling his arms out from under her, he caressed her face, placing a small kiss upon her lips. "I think I'll say goodnight now, Cora. It's been a long day, and I'm sure you're tired," he said, starting to sit up.

Cora blinked up into the dark, turning her head to watch as he slid to the edge of the bed. "Can't you sleep here? With me?" Her voice was timid.

She could make out his much darker shadow in the tiny bit of light from the lamp on that side of the bed. He shook his head, his back to her. "Cora, you know that's not the way of things."

Sitting up herself, she reached down to clutch the bedclothes over her naked body. He hadn't even left the room, and already she felt so alone. "Why? Why can't it be? Didn't you agree with me that what goes on in here is our business and no one else's? No one has to know."

Robert sighed deeply, his shoulders hunched. "It's not done, Cora."

"My parents sleep in the same room," she pointed out, unwanted tears coming to her eyes.

"Your parents are not Lord and Lady Downton." Slight irritation crept into his voice. He stood, bending down to find his garments. "They are not held to the same standards as we are."

"Robert, who would even know? The maid?"

He faced her now, although his countenance was still in shadow. "Yes. The maid. Who – even after we employ one of your own – will ultimately report to my mother." Slight irritation had become outright exasperation.

A bubble of anger pressed into her chest even as hot tears fell down her cheeks. She remembered how Violet scolded him in the garden, how he'd let her. "So it's because of your mother. Robert, I didn't marry your mother, I married you."

Robert paused, one leg of his drawers on, holding them about his knees. "Cora, you married into a family and into a life. And this is how it works. The sooner you get used to it, the better," he said, his voice rough. He hopped on one foot to get his other leg in his drawers.

"I hope you trip and fall on your ass, Robert Crawley," Cora snapped, her tears and anger too much for her now. Throwing back the bedclothes, she jumped out of bed and retrieved her own garments. Standing there, shaking, she addressed his now still form across the bed from her. She thought she may have actually shocked him, so she took the opportunity to say, "I know that this life is full of duty and toeing the line. I know it, and I plan on doing my very best to fit into it and to make you proud. But I've given up so much. Can't we have one thing, Robert?" Her anger was draining from her, being replaced by a kind of despair. Because she already knew the answer. "Can't we have one thing that's ours alone?" she choked out.

Before he could answer – if he was going to – Cora covered her mouth and hurried into the washroom, closing the door behind her. She leaned back against it, shutting her eyes and letting her tears fall. After several moments, they finally stopped, and she moved about the washroom in the dark, feeling about carefully until she'd finished. Following splashing water on her face, she shrugged her drawers and night dress back on, wondering if she would be able to wear her mother's gift again without thinking of this night. Her wedding night. It was enough to bring her back to the precipice of tears. But she took a fortifying breath and returned to the bedroom.

Cora froze. Robert had turned up the lamps, and he sat slumped on the edge of her side of the bed. He lifted his head at her entrance, his eyes looking – were they sad? He shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, Cora," he whispered. "I'm sorry we argued, and I'm sorry that it was on our wedding night, and I'm sorry that I can't give you everything you want."

Nodding, she inwardly cursed the tears that welled up in her eyes once again. "I'm sorry too," she said, her voice barely audible.

"If it makes you feel any better, I did fall over." He stood, his countenance sheepish. He rubbed his bottom a bit.

Crossing her arms across her chest, stubborn, she attempted not to let herself find the situation humorous. "Actually, it does," she said, turning from him and trying to keep her lips from twitching.

Robert took another step closer to her, hesitating, as if sensing that she wasn't exactly happy with him still. "The night could have ended so much differently, Cora," he murmured.

All traces of mirth left her as she looked at him again. "It didn't have to end at all, Robert," she whispered, her voice in danger of breaking completely as she swallowed around a swiftly rising lump.

He closed the distance between them and put a hand over one of hers where it rested over her elbow, his head bent. Giving a soft sigh, he said, "You don't understand yet. How it has to be."

"No, I understand enough." She, too, bent her head, gazing upon his hand on hers. "Duty will always come first. Even over your wife." She let out a long breath, willing herself not to cry again.

"Cora, don't say it like that."

She lifted her eyes, seeing that his were now fastened upon her face. "How else should I say it? It's the truth, isn't it? I mean, you did marry me for my money." There was no spite in her voice, only a matter-of-fact tone.

Robert shut his eyes, as if the words pained him. He curled his fingers around her hand, clasping it, and opened his eyes, staring at her fixedly. "Cora, I wanted you. Money or not. But I couldn't have married you without it."

Her hand remained rigid, even as his thumb rubbed over wrist. She gazed at him, his visage free of any guile or deception. "You want me, but you won't stay here with me."

"Cora, please, I would like to, but I can't." He squeezed her hand, his voice soft, his tone pleading her to understand.

But she didn't understand. She couldn't understand why he couldn't just stay. She so wanted to be near him. Did he not want to be near her too? _Of course not_, she thought. _He doesn't love me as I love him_. "It's alright, Robert." Her voice was heavy. It wasn't alright, but she didn't want to fight with him, not again, not on their wedding night.

"No, I can tell it's not, but I hope you can forgive me for it."

Sighing deeply, Cora shrugged her shoulders a bit. "There's nothing to forgive, Robert. Like you said, it's how things have to be." She bent her head down, feeling defeated.

Robert put his other hand under her chin, lifting it to look into her eyes. "All the same, I _am_ sorry, Cora."

She could see that he meant it, even if he wasn't willing to make things different. Nodding a bit, his hand still under her chin, she whispered, "I'm sorry too, Robert. And I'm sorry for spoiling our wedding night."

"No, you didn't spoil it. Not for me, anyway. Our argument aside, I still had a wonderful evening, and I just wish I could do what you want me to."

Cora gave him a hint of a smile. "I do too. But, yes, the rest of the evening was wonderful."

Moving his hand up to cup her cheek, he smiled at her. "Then let's try to remember that and forget the rest, shall we?" He pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Of course, Robert."

"Goodnight, Cora," he murmured before placing a soft kiss to her lips. "My wife."

"Goodnight, Robert." Her arms still crossed over her chest, Cora watched as he disappeared behind his bedroom door, turning to give her another smile as he shut it.

Putting out the lights, Cora curled up in her bed, silent tears streaking her face. "Goodnight, my husband," she whispered into the dark. "I love you."


	4. We are a partnership

Over the next several days, Cora spent most of her time with her family before they were to depart Downton – leaving her behind with her new family. What time she didn't spend with them, she supervised the packing for their honeymoon trip. Luckily, Kendrick had finally formed a kind of grudging respect for the young mistress, and Cora felt much easier in her presence than she did just days before.

As Cora visited with her family – sometimes joined by Patrick or Rosamund, and often Robert, Violet avoiding them except for shared meals, and sometimes alone – she already felt them slipping away from her. Many of the bits of advice given by one or the other of her parents dealt with being married or fitting into a new society. But Cora kept thinking that, from what she'd experienced so far, much of their advice wouldn't be useful, and made her feel even more as if they were already gone.

During her evenings spent with Robert in her bedroom, she stayed mostly quiet. The looks he gave her told her that he knew something was amiss, but he didn't ask, probably attributing it to their disagreement on their wedding night. Cora wasn't sure what she would have told him if he _had_ asked about her reserve. Their argument had certainly given her much to think over, but she also felt all the more lonely for knowing her family would soon be gone. But, to be honest, Cora's feelings about a number of things remained knotted up together, and she didn't know how to talk about them. So she kept quiet.

And, every night, as she and Robert recovered their breathing in the window of time just before she knew he would get up and go back to his own room, she silently clung to him. For that small space in their day, while he lay in her embrace, he was completely hers – not bound by duty or his family or anything else. Even their coupling, despite being pleasant and far from unwelcome to Cora, had a purpose. But that time, lying together afterwards, his heart beating against hers through her night dress, Cora claimed as her own, whether he realized it or not.

The brevity of this time tore at her heart with its bitter sweetness. But, for now, she would take whatever she could get.

The morning of her family's departure, Cora bucked tradition and had Kendrick dress her for breakfast. She didn't care what Violet might say; she wanted one last breakfast with her father.

Robert's eyes went wide when she came into the room, but he didn't say anything, merely went back to his breakfast. Patrick hadn't noticed anything different, but greeted her and read his paper. However, Isidore's face brightened considerably.

"Princess, how lovely to see you this morning! You look very pretty. Marriage suits you, darling, even in the morning." He chuckled, standing and pressing a kiss to her cheek before she went to fill her plate at the sideboard.

Cora watched Robert carefully, smiling a bit as she noted the softening in his countenance during her exchange with her father. "Poppa, where's Harold?"

Isidore shook his head. "I suppose still asleep. You know how he is." He looked up at Robert with a grin. "Night owl, that son of mine."

"Er, yes," Robert said, glancing back at Cora in confusion.

Cora simply laughed, both at her father's statement and at Robert's bafflement. But this expression didn't last very long, as his lips turned upward in a grin, and his eyes lit up. It's when she realized she hadn't truly laughed in days. She held his eyes with hers as her laughter trailed off, smiling brightly at him, as if to make up for how quiet she'd been lately. He continued to grin at her until Rosamund traipsed into the room, blinking her eyes sleepily.

"Good morning," she said to everyone, then tilted her head, noticing Cora. "Oh, I didn't expect you to be here, dear."

Turning her eyes from Robert, she remarked, "Well, I don't mean to make it a habit. I wanted to have breakfast with Poppa before they go today." Cora felt her father take her hand and squeeze it. She looked at Isidore, smiling at him sadly. He returned the same sad smile, and Cora was reminded of how much she resembled him. It was all she could do not to break into tears.

Lowering her eyes to compose herself, she picked up her fork once again to continue eating. When she raised her head, Cora realized that Robert was staring at her, his face reflecting a kind of quiet sympathy. It made her heart jump to know that he recognized her sorrow.

Cora could tell that both Isidore and Robert worked to keep the breakfast conversation light. Rosamund contributed amusing tidbits, as always, and occasionally Patrick added something from behind his newspaper. Casting Robert grateful glances, Cora made an effort to enjoy this meal fully.

Afterward, Cora's father led her out into the hallway. Facing her, he wrapped his hands around her upper arms and smiled warmly at her. "Cora, the past couple of weeks have taught me that I can go home confident that you will be fine. And even beyond that, Princess – that you will thrive." Lifting one hand to touch her cheek, he continued. "Robert is a good man, and he'll take care of you. And I know you'll be a good wife to him. You're a strong woman, Cora, and I am certain you won't let Lady Grantham cast her shadow over everything, as intent as she seems to do that." He squeezed her arm gently.

"Poppa, I don't feel strong," she confessed in a whisper, tears springing to her eyes.

"Oh, Princess, I know you don't right now. You're still finding your way here. But you will, darling girl, and you'll remember that strength. Of that I am completely certain." His smile widened. "You've got your mother's fire in you."

Cora threw her arms around his neck, holding him tightly as he put his own arms around her. "I'm going to miss you so much, Poppa. All of you."

Isidore murmured into her hair, "The house won't be the same without you, Cora. Without your sweet smile and bright eyes and engaging laugh. My little girl." Here his voice caught, so he simply held her.

Blinking her eyes, attempting to slow her tears as she embraced her father, Cora saw a sliver of grey suiting at the dining room door. Knowing that Robert stood there, just inside the doorway, listening, whether he'd meant to or not, comforted her somehow, no matter how much of their conversation he'd heard.

The Levinsons left about an hour before luncheon. Violet, as a conscientious hostess, joined the others at the front of the house, where a carriage awaited to take Cora's family to Downton station. The Countess of Grantham looked on impatiently as the Levinsons and Crawleys said their goodbyes. Patrick and Isidore wrung one another's hands, as did Robert and his father-in-law. Harold had a handshake for everyone as well. Martha embraced them all, even Violet – much to her chagrin.

Cora waited near the carriage, watching. When they approached, one by one, Cora hugged each, telling them she loved them and would miss them. Isidore stood by the carriage door, waiting to hand his wife in, Harold already inside. Martha put her gloved hand under her daughter's chin and looked into her eyes.

"You're a Levinson, Cora. And Levinsons persevere."

Swallowing against the lump in her throat, Cora nodded once. "Yes, Mother."

Martha smiled. "I'm proud of you, darling. And don't forget what I said to you." Kissing her cheek once more, she took a step back from Cora, who could see tears glittering upon her lashes. "Write to us. We'll want to know you're being taken care of – even though I know you can take care of yourself." With a wink, Martha began striding toward the carriage.

"Goodbye, Mother," Cora called out as Isidore handed her up. "Goodbye, Poppa." Her father turned to blow her a kiss, then disappeared into the carriage.

Cora took a few steps back as the carriage started down the drive. And, within moments, they were gone.

Rosamund appeared at her side. "Cora, I'm going to take you to your room. I'm sure you want some time alone."

Nodding, Cora let Rosamund take her gently by the arm and steer her toward the front door. The servants were filing back toward their entrance, and Violet had already disappeared into the house. Patrick put a comforting hand on Cora's arm as she passed. Robert watched them, looking as if he wanted to do something to make her feel better but had no idea what.

Once upstairs, Rosamund helped Cora onto the chaise and tucked a blanket around her. This sort of care from her was unusual, and Cora knew to be appreciative of it.

"Rosamund, do you think I might miss luncheon? I'm not feeling well." Her appetite had left with her family.

"Of course, Cora," she said softly. "Should I ring for Kendrick? Perhaps what you need is a nice long rest this afternoon. Then you might feel up to joining us for dinner?"

Cora nodded again, feeling incapable of speaking, lest she break down completely in front of her sister-in-law.

Rosamund went over and pulled the bell cord. "Might I come check on you around teatime?"

"Yes, thank you," Cora managed to whisper.

"I can't claim that I know anything about what you're going through, Cora, but I do think it'll get easier, with time. And, just think, in a couple of days you'll be off to France on your honeymoon."

Giving her a small smile, Cora said, "Yes, there's that," before bowing her head to conceal her sadness once more.

She heard Rosamund sigh before the door opened, letting in Kendrick. "Cora," Rosamund said, "I'm here if you need me."

Yet again, Cora nodded, watching as the door closed behind Rosamund and Kendrick went to her armoire to select a tea gown. As much as she liked Rosamund, Cora wished it was Robert who'd said that to her.

_Oh, well, _she thought. _At least I'm not completely alone._ Despite this, with the departure of her family, and along with it her ties to home, she still felt incredibly alone.

* * *

Cora did come down to dinner, her hunger getting the better of her, and her mother's words "Levinsons persevere" ringing in her head. It was no use to hide away in her room, not when she should be striving to fit in with her new family.

As they sat, first the ladies, and then the gentlemen, Cora realized she'd never had dinner with only the Crawleys before. If her melancholy hadn't already inclined her to be silent, this revelation would have; she wanted to see how they interacted when her parents and brother weren't with them. At first, they seemed restrained, casting small glances toward her, mindful of her presence. But soon, they relaxed – helped, no doubt, by Cora's quiet. They appeared to forget she sat with them. All except for Robert, who continued to send concerned looks her way. If she'd felt better, Cora might have blushed at this. As it was, she simply watched and listened.

Patrick and Violet bickered. Rosamund and Violet bickered. Robert shook his head at them and smiled wearily at Cora. Patrick attempted to intervene on Rosamund's behalf when she and her mother argued. Robert also added a point in Rosamund's favor, and Violet harrumphed, glaring at her husband and offspring as she began attacking her dinner.

"So I see everyone is against me. Again." Cora flinched when Violet turned the glare upon her.

Robert heaved a deep sigh, as if about to say something, but Patrick spoke first. "Violet, stop that. Cora has said barely a word all evening, and she most certainly hasn't said one against you. Stop trying to make her feel as if she's done something wrong."

Cora looked at Patrick gratefully. Violet's head snapped around to him, her eyes narrowed. "Did I say anything to _her_?" she inquired. "I don't think I did, Patrick Crawley. So put that in your pipe and smoke it." She stabbed a piece of meat with her fork in an almost violent manner.

Patrick merely rolled his eyes. "Fine, Violet. Have it your way."

Out of the corner of her eye, Cora could see Robert fidgeting, red with embarrassment at the way his mother acted. Rosamund drank her wine, evidently happy that the conversation had steered away from her. Cora shrank back in her chair, wondering what she'd gotten herself into.

Silence reigned over the rest of dinner. Pleading a headache, Cora escaped to her room, but not before she saw the worried look on her husband's face as his eyes followed her out. Once upstairs, she went ahead and got ready for bed, tucking herself up with her favorite book. It took a while, but finally she was able to concentrate on the words on the page.

Perhaps an hour later, she heard what was becoming a familiar scratching on the dividing door. Resting her book down upon her lap, Cora called, "Come in, Robert."

Opening the door, he appeared thrown because she was already in bed. "Cora, I –"

Cora shook her head slightly, interrupting him. "I'm sorry, but I don't feel like…." She took a deep breath. "Not tonight, Robert."

He still had his hand upon the door knob, and he gave a little nod. "I - I understand. I thought you might not want to. I really just came to make sure that you were alright." His face softened with concern. "_Are _you alright, Cora?"

Running her fingers over the outside of her book, she looked down. "I suppose. I'm just sad," she said in a small voice.

"I know." He paused, appearing uncomfortable and like he wasn't certain what to do or say next. "Well, I don't want to intrude, so I'll bid you goodnight, then, Cora, if you're alright."

But the last thing Cora wanted was for him to leave. "Robert?" she ventured.

He'd already half turned back into his room. He twisted his head around. "Yes?"

"If you don't mind, would you sit with me a while?" She hated that her eyes filled with tears as she asked him. "It's not an intrusion. I would like your company. Please?"

"Of course I will, Cora, if that's what you'd like." He turned into her room again.

"Yes. I would like it."

Cora watched as he closed the door and climbed up beside her on the bed. He sat next to her, apparently unsure what to do. Putting a marker in her book and setting it aside, Cora looked around at him. "I, um, er…" he began awkwardly.

"Robert?" she whispered.

"Yes, Cora?"

"I don't need to talk. I'm not sure I can, actually. Might you just put your arm around me instead and let me rest my head? It's very full, and I'm not sure I will be able to sleep tonight, but maybe if you hold me a while I will find some peace."

Gazing at her with a soft expression, he slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him, resting himself back against her headboard. "I'll stay until you fall asleep, Cora. How about that? I won't leave until you do."

"I would like that, Robert." She nestled herself against him, sighing deeply, feeling comfortable for the first time since that morning. "And you don't have to wake me before you go this time. Because that will defeat the purpose, won't it?" She chuckled lightly before pressing her face into his night shirt.

She felt Robert's arm tighten briefly around her. "Yes, it would," he murmured, but without any amusement. If Cora didn't know any better, she would think he cared more deeply about her than he'd indicated in the past. But she did know better.

All the same, she endeavored to pull her thoughts from her family, by now in London, getting their rest before traveling to Liverpool to board the ship back to America tomorrow, and instead to fix them upon the lingering scent of Robert's soap and cologne, the feel of his steady breathing next to her, the circle of his arm around her shoulders. In some ways, she felt he was more hers in this moment than in those times they lay together to recover after their more physical exertions. Because he could so easily have gone back to his room, so he wasn't "intruding." But he hadn't. He'd stayed.

Cora knew she shouldn't build hope on such things, that it was dangerous and could lead only too easily to great disappointment. However, she couldn't help it. Hope rose in her chest and gave her a sense of calm. It soothed her enough to sleep, nestled up in his arms.

* * *

When she woke to the sounds of the curtains being opened, Cora imagined that she could still feel Robert's arm around her. It wasn't, but Cora closed her eyes and hugged herself before sitting up to receive her breakfast tray.

The lack of coffee displeased her. "Right," she muttered to herself as Kendrick ran her bath. If she were truly to embrace her life here, she would have to figure out how to negotiate for things that were important to her – even if only little things like her morning coffee. She wasn't a guest here, not anymore; she was the Viscountess Downton, and, as such, she had to have _some_ power. Finishing her breakfast, she made a note to speak to the housekeeper once she'd gotten downstairs.

Once downstairs, however, she ran into her mother-in-law. "Ah, yes. Your new lady's maid has arrived."

Cora gaped at her. "What do you mean, Lady Grantham?"

One of Violet's eyebrows rose. "I thought I was perfectly clear, young lady."

"But I was under the impression that _I_ would be interviewing candidates for my lady's maid – or at least have a say in who we would hire." Cora struggled to keep her composure.

"Well, there was quite a large pool of candidates, but the one I ended up hiring for you was the only one who didn't mind working for –" she paused here – "an _American_." She said it as if it were a disease Cora had.

Cora silently sighed. "What is her name, my lady?"

"Banks. She'll begin attending you this afternoon. Kendrick is getting her settled now."

Nodding, Cora simply said, "Thank you," when she would have liked to tell her mother-in-law off for not at least consulting her before she hired the woman, for looking at her son's wife as if she were a great imposition upon her life, for blaming her for marrying him in the first place. Instead, she said, "I would like to speak to the housekeeper. Where would I go to do that?"

Both Violet's brows rose at this. "And why would you want to speak to the housekeeper?"

"Because I would like coffee with my breakfast, my lady. I enjoy tea, but I would like something stronger in the morning," Cora said plainly.

Violet's Cheshire cat grin at this made Cora nervous. "Be my guest. There are the stairs to the servants' part of the house." She pointed them out. "Ask for her, and someone will show you to her sitting room, where she's most likely to be at this time of day."

Cora couldn't keep the bewildered look from her face. "Yes, well, thank you." She turned and went to the stairs Violet had indicated, glancing back at her wide grin before descending them.

The first footman she came across appeared shocked to see her. "Lady Downton, are – did you mean to be elsewhere?"

"No, I just wanted to have a word with the housekeeper. Might you show me where she is?" Cora became slightly unnerved at his perplexity over her presence below stairs.

"She's in her sitting room. This way, my lady." He led her to a small apartment, where he knocked upon the door.

"Yes?" came the housekeeper's voice from beyond the half open portal.

The footman coughed a little and indicated that Cora should stay put while he went into the room. He spoke in a low voice, but Cora could still hear. "Lady Downton wishes to speak with you."

Cora heard the scraping of a chair against the stone floor. "In which room is she waiting?"

"Her ladyship's come down here."

"Why on earth did you bring her down here, you young imbecile? She shouldn't be down here!"

Cora's face grew flushed as he hastened to defend himself. "I didn't! She showed up at the bottom of the stairs and asked for you."

The housekeeper let out a loud noise of disapproval. "Well, better show her ladyship in."

The footman stepped outside the door, opening it wider and moving aside for Cora to enter. "I'm sorry to disturb you," she began.

"No, Lady Downton, it's no disturbance." Her smile was more like a grimace.

Cora drew herself up, trying to look as if she'd done nothing out of the ordinary, while feeling very small inside at how Violet had evidently tricked her into committing a social faux pas. "Then I would like to make a request, for coffee to be served with my breakfast every morning."

The housekeeper stared at her as if she'd asked her to spin gold out of straw. "I'm sorry, my lady, but the coffee is reserved for dinner parties and other events when Downton has evening guests."

"Then might you order more? I need only one pot brewed for me in the morning." She kept her voice even and a pleasant smile on her face.

Raising her eyebrows, the housekeeper stated, "I can't see purchasing extra stores of coffee for one person, my lady."

Cora found herself getting angry. Was this yet another person who did not know her, yet already hated her? "I don't see how one pot a day would be that much of an expense."

"It's not so much a matter of expense –"

"Then see that you order enough coffee for me to have with my breakfast." Her voice was firm, bordering on irate. She'd had enough excuses. Their housekeeper in Newport would not have dared countermand a request of hers. "It's not as if I am not paying for it anyway," she added with a snap, not caring whether this overstepped the mark or not. She was tired of so many people here looking down on her.

Instead of looking intimidated, however, the housekeeper appeared merely cross. "Yes, _my lady_," she retorted, as if that appellation shouldn't apply to Cora. "Would you like someone to show you back upstairs?"

Cora bit back a sarcastic reply, even though the housekeeper's condescension was clear in her blatant attempt to dismiss her. "No," she said abruptly. "I'll find my own way. And be sure there is coffee on my breakfast tray tomorrow. I don't want to have to bring up this conversation with Lord Grantham."

With that, she turned on her heel, leaving the housekeeper narrowing her eyes.

The rest of the morning, Cora felt as if she could hit something. But, of course, she didn't. Instead, she went for a walk in the garden, her pace much more rapid than usual. At luncheon, she carefully avoided looking at her mother-in-law and participated very little in the conversation. Afterward, Robert approached her for their usual afternoon walk. She took his arm without a word.

As they strolled together around the grounds, Robert kept turning to her, as if he wanted to say something, then would shake his head, changing his mind perhaps. Finally, he stopped them. "Cora, you seem upset about something. Not sad, like yesterday, but upset – mad. Have I done something to make you angry?"

"No, not you. Your mother." She balled her fist up at her side, her other hand tightening its hold on his arm.

He looked as if he might chuckle and then quickly subdued himself. "What has she done?"

As they continued their walk, Cora told him how Violet hired her lady's maid without consulting her, how she'd sent her downstairs to find the housekeeper instead of telling her the proper procedure, and what had happened with the housekeeper.

Robert shook his head with a little sigh and smile. "Yes, well, that's Mama for you."

Withdrawing her hand from his arm, she stepped back from him, effectively interrupting their walk. "That's all you can say, Robert?" A crease appeared on her forehead.

"What else should I say?" He drew his brows together.

"You could at least be upset with her. These are just examples of how she always treats me, Robert. Haven't you seen it? And she's making me look like a fool to the staff. How am I supposed to be a proper viscountess if the staff doesn't respect me? I shouldn't have to drop your father's name in order to fulfill a simple request or make sure your mother's lady's maid doesn't spoil my dresses. I don't think I ask that much, do I? It's not as if I'm trying to usurp your mother's place. But I will have to help you run Downton one day, and she needs to help me learn to do it. Robert, her personal dislike for me I can take. But when she acts like this, she's hurting both of us."

Robert shook his head. "But what am I supposed to do? She's my mother, and I have to respect her."

"Stand up to her, Robert. I understand you want to respect her, but her spite toward me is coloring how she sees everything else. Don't you see?" Cora pleaded with him, her palms facing out at her sides.

Shaking his head again, Robert replied, "Maybe it will get better. She'll see what she's doing and change."

Cora could feel harsh reality crash over her yet again, like a bucket of cold water. "No. She won't. And nor will you." She closed her eyes and opened them again, taking in his look of dismay at her words. "Now I see the way you stood up to her the day before our wedding for what it was: an anomaly. I had thought that we were to be a partnership. But I suppose I'll have to fight these battles on my own."

She turned and began to walk away from him. He caught her up and grasped her elbow. "Cora, please don't walk away angry."

Tilting her face up to him, she said quietly, "I'm not angry, Robert. Just very disappointed." Pulling her arm away, she left him on the lawn, staring after her.

When she got up to her room, Cora tugged on the bell cord, wondering if she was about to meet yet another enemy in a house already full of them. She sat down on her chaise to steel herself for her first meeting with her new lady's maid.

Cora judged the woman who entered the room to be about middle age and medium height. She had her white-streaked raven hair pulled back severely, but her face didn't reflect this severity. In fact, her countenance was one of extreme impassivity. She stood patiently in front of her new mistress, waiting to be addressed.

"Lady Grantham told me that your name is Banks, is that right?" Cora began.

"Yes, Lady Downton," she acknowledged with a slight nod.

Cora smiled at her. "Well, I hope you enjoy working here. I'm sure Kendrick told you that in two days we're leaving for Nice, and of course you'll be coming with us. Perhaps it's not the best opportunity to settle into your duties, but I think we'll all have a lovely time in France."

"My lady, I will work hard and do my duty by you here or wherever you happen to travel. It makes no matter to me." Banks paused a moment before adding, "Whatever preparations still need to be done, I am available to do them."

Although her tone and face remained impassive, Cora thought that at least she did not already hold a grudge against her mistress for being American. "Yes, well." Cora's voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper as she leaned forward. "I'm new here too. We'll learn together, shall we?"

"Just as you like, Lady Downton." She inclined her head again, her expression unchanging.

Cora sighed internally. Even if the woman wasn't warm or particularly friendly, Cora hoped she might be efficient and helpful. "I would like to change for the afternoon. A tea gown I think, Banks."

"Yes, my lady. Do you have a preference?" Banks inquired as she opened the armoire.

"No, no. Any of them will do." _It's not as if anyone ever sees them anyway_, Cora thought sadly.

With the afternoon and evening changes, Cora had to admit that Banks did seem to be efficient, helpful, and, admittedly, talented with Cora's coiffure. So far she'd said very little, but Cora began to think that this might be to her advantage. She couldn't know if Banks was discrete or loyal, but she could already tell that she was the no nonsense type who took her work very seriously. Which suited Cora well enough. At best she might not get any insolence from her lady's maid the way she had from the housekeeper. Violet might have hired her, but Cora got the distinct impression that Banks knew she worked for Lady Downton, not Lady Grantham.

Therefore, when Banks finished dressing her hair for bed, Cora dismissed her with a smile and a sincere, "Thank you, Banks."

Banks nodded before closing the door behind her, and Cora went back to putting lotion on her arms, thinking over the events of the day. As disappointed as she was by Robert's resistance to the suggestion that he stand up to his mother, Cora had recognized that she couldn't change who he was, any more than she could change his mother – or herself. She was willing to compromise, to work with the Crawleys and the staff, and she couldn't expect anything more from her husband. She wouldn't give up trying to be the best wife she could to him, even if that included standing up to Violet herself. She knew she would have to pick her battles though – with her mother-in-law and with Robert.

Unfortunately, getting him to stand up to his mother was one she knew she'd lose.

So she resigned herself to being the sole combatant in her fight to learn how to be "her ladyship." Her father had told her she had the strength. Her mother had told her that Levinsons persevere. And above it all, Cora loved Robert so very much that she had no wish to surrender to Violet's attempts to tear her down. She wanted Robert to be proud to call her his wife.

Cora had just begun to wonder what was keeping Robert when she heard the knock at his door. "Yes?" she called.

Robert peered into the room. "Is it alright if I come in?"

Rolling her eyes a bit as she put lids back on various containers on her dressing table, she said, "Of course it is, silly."

"Well, I wasn't sure, you know, after this afternoon. And you were so quiet again at dinner…." He didn't move.

Cora turned in her chair and tilted her head at him, smiling and raising an eyebrow. "Robert, you didn't do anything wrong. I might have been a bit unfair to you."

Robert took a step into the room. "No, I don't think you were. You told me what you thought, as you always have. And as I hope you always do."

Standing, Cora crossed half the distance between them. "Do you?" she asked in earnest.

Taking another two steps into the room, he shut the door behind him. Then he met her eyes. "Yes. Believe it or not, it's one of the things I admire most about you. You tell me what you think. You make me see things I can't see." Inhaling deeply, Robert walked to her. "I don't like disappointing you, Cora. Far from it. And I do see how Mama treats you – when I'm there. I didn't know how she was making you look in front of the staff, however. But I don't like that either." He sighed and reached out to clasp her hand. "I'll do what I can. I hope you know that I can't promise she'll stop."

"Yes, I know that, Robert." She smiled wider at him. "Just that you understand and are willing to speak to her…. It means so much to me."

"Cora, when I proposed I promised you that I would do my best to give you a good and happy life. And I meant it. I meant it then, and I mean it now." Robert lifted his other hand to cup her cheek. "We _are_ a partnership, Cora. It simply might take a little time for your husband to realize everything that means. I hope that doesn't disappoint you too much."

Closing her eyes, she leaned her face into his hand with a soft sigh, one of the few things she could do to say she loved him without saying the words, to say she trusted him completely. After a moment, she blinked her eyes open and gazed at him, whispering, "No, Robert. It doesn't disappoint me at all. I'll try to be more patient."

"You're patient enough, Cora. It's one of your strongest traits. But I never want your patience to become suffering. I couldn't forgive myself if it did." He ran a gentle thumb along her cheekbone.

"Alright, Robert."

She caught her breath when he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Please, Cora, tell me you won't suffer in silence if things get to be too much. That you'll tell me, like you do everything else."

"Of course I'll tell you," she murmured, his closeness and tenderness beginning to make her delightfully dizzy.

"Good," he said simply before pressing first one soft kiss and then another just below her ear. Then he drew away from her enough to look down into her face. "Cora, are you feeling better tonight? Do you need me to hold you until you fall asleep again? Or would you like to be alone? I can go, if you like."

The expression upon his face was one of concern mixed with hope and expectation. Cora slid her hand up to his neck and played with the collar of his night shirt. "No, I don't want you to go. And I am feeling much better, Robert. You can hold me if you like, later, but do wake me before you leave, please?" She leaned up to crush her lips to his, to convey her meaning to the fullest.

Robert's arms stole around her waist to pull her closer. Breaking the kiss, he said softly, "I promise to wake you before I leave, Cora." Then he bent his head to brush kisses across her cheeks, her jaw, down her throat, and, unfastening her top few buttons, across her collar bone and to her shoulder.

Cora could tell that he'd missed being with her in this physical way the night before. It wasn't long at all until he was walking her toward the bed and getting her settled upon it, turning down the lamps, and divesting himself of his garments as usual. The drawback to this became clear as she barely had time to feel those stirrings she'd come to enjoy during their coupling. However, after he'd let out his groan of release and fallen against her, he seemed in much less of a hurry to get up and leave.

As Cora wrapped her arms and legs more securely around him, letting her fingers trail lazily along his back, she thought perhaps the trade-off might be acceptable. She let out a soft sigh and endeavored to soak up every precious second that she could hold him in her arms.


	5. We have time

On their way to Nice, Robert read. And Cora watched him read. She had her own book out, but she couldn't concentrate on the words. Every so often, he'd look up and smile at her, and she'd smile in return. But as soon as he turned his eyes back to his book, her face fell. She believed she succeeded in concealing her disappointment and her sighs from him, which served as some small source of relief.

When they ate dinner, he spoke to her, asking what she knew of Nice, of France. She knew next to nothing, so he told her stories of holidays his family had taken there. Cora loved hearing him speak of happy memories. At the same time, however, it gave her a twinge of melancholy to think that perhaps their own memories wouldn't be quite so happy.

Other than at meals, though, Robert kept to his book. Cora wondered whether to initiate conversation, but she hesitated. She hesitated all the way to Nice.

Once they'd arrived and been shown to their elegant suite, Cora pleaded a headache and removed herself to the sanctuary of her own room, resting while Banks unpacked her things.

"Banks, do you think men change after they marry?"

"I'm sure I couldn't say, Lady Downton," came Banks' unhelpful answer. Cora let her get back to unpacking, then dismissed her to let her settle herself before the dressing bell.

For a while, Cora wondered if Robert would appear at her door. But he didn't.

When Banks turned up again, Cora realized she'd fallen asleep. "The scarlet gown tonight, my lady?" her maid inquired.

At Cora's nod, Banks prepared everything for the evening change.

When Cora emerged a little later, Robert already stood in wait for her. Snapping his pocket watch closed and tucking it into his pocket, he smiled at her. "You look very pretty, Cora," he said. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, I'm ready," she said with a smile back at him, taking his proffered arm.

Dinner, although excellent, was much the same. Cora did her best to hide her disappointment. Then, her disappointment received an unexpected check.

Robert rose from his chair, and once Cora had followed suit, he held out his hand to her. "There is a ballroom over there." He pointed through the doors of the resort's restaurant. "Would you care to dance?"

After their sedate journey, Cora's expectations had been lowered so much that this was a surprise. She grinned up at him and nodded. "I would like that very much, Robert." Slipping her hand in his, she walked with him into the opulent ballroom, which was alive with spinning couples and people seated at small tables.

As a dance was already in progress, Robert brought her to one of the tables and flagged down a waiter carrying champagne. Handing her a flute, he raised his own. "To our honeymoon," he said, clinking his glass to hers before taking a sip. "That's quite good actually."

"That's right," Cora said, chuckling. "You prefer Scotch or brandy to champagne."

"Yes, I do. But celebrations call for champagne toasts." He smiled at her, having another drink.

"Are we celebrating?" She blinked a few times, her glass poised for her next sip.

He laughed a bit. "Of course we are, Cora. We're celebrating our marriage. The wedding soiree was for everyone else. This is for _us_." Cora caught her breath as he tilted his head down and raised his eyebrows, smiling at her.

Before she could respond, she heard a voice calling their names. "Lady Downton, Lord Downton!" Looking up, she saw Lady Margaret and Lord Henry coming off the dance floor together. Lady Margaret raised her hand in greeting.

"Lord Henry! Lady Margaret! What a wonderful surprise to see you here!" Robert wrung his friend's hand and kissed the back of Lady Margaret's glove.

Lady Margaret shocked Cora a trifle when she took her hands and kissed her on both cheeks. "Darling, I'm so happy to see you!"

Cora smiled warmly. "I didn't know the two of you would be here."

"Well, Henry and I arrived a few days ago; we left the day after your wedding. It was beautiful."

"Lady Margaret –" Cora started.

"Oh, I think we can drop the 'lady' part," she said, laughing softly and continuing to clasp Cora's hands as she perched upon the chair next to hers.

Sitting once more, and seeing that Lord Henry had successfully taken Robert's attention, Cora began again. "Yes, Margaret, well, it's lovely to see you, and I'm happy you and Lord Henry could attend. Your wedding was marvelous, too." She paused only a second before adding, "Do call me Cora."

"Good." Margaret beamed at her. "I'm so glad you're here. Now I have someone interesting to talk to when the men are busy elsewhere, doing whatever it is they do before and after luncheon!"

"What, you mean, you don't spend it together?" Cora furrowed her brow.

Margaret fixed her with a confused look, shaking her head slightly. "Of course not, Cora. We might be able to convince them to join us on the beach a few times in the afternoon, though. What do you think? Shall we try it, or should we simply keep our time to ourselves?"

Cora liked that she had someone outside of Robert's family calling her by her own name. But the realities of honeymooning in Nice Margaret disclosed disconcerted her. "Why come on honeymoon, then?" she blurted out.

"Dear Cora," Margaret said in a low voice, "there are still plenty of delights to being on a honeymoon – with and without Robert."

Sighing, Cora colored. "I apologize, Margaret. It's not like I thought. None of it is like I thought." Her voice was a near whisper as she lowered her lashes. She hadn't really thought of Margaret as a friend before, but now she thought perhaps she could.

"Cora?" Robert suddenly stood in front of the two. He held his hand out to Cora, and she recognized the strains announcing the next dance from the orchestra. "It's a waltz. If you don't mind my stealing her away for a while, Margaret?" He winked at her before looking at his wife again, an earnest expression upon his face.

"Of course I don't, Robert," she said, chuckling. "Go and enjoy yourselves. We'll be here when you get back. Henry and I are still catching our breath." Cora saw the glance Margaret and Henry shared between one another; she found herself unaccountably jealous at the sight.

Nevertheless, Cora took Robert's hand and allowed him to lead her to the floor. He leaned close to her ear as they waited for the dance to start. "I wanted to say again how beautiful you look, Cora." His breath fell warm upon her ear, and Cora closed her eyes.

"Thank you, Robert," she said, just as the first notes rose from the orchestra pit. Robert's arm tightened around her as he guided her through the dance.

When he wasn't looking where they were going, Cora had Robert's eyes affixed to hers. She smiled happily at this, at the way his arm caressed her, his hand squeezed hers every-so-often. If only they could stay like this always, she mused. She could believe he loved her in moments like these.

But, of course, eventually the dance ended, and Robert guided her back to their table. Cora could see Margaret and Henry's heads bent close together and hear the peals of laughter arising from them. Sighing inwardly, she managed to smile at the couple when they realized they weren't alone any more. Margaret jumped up and tugged Cora over to her chair, her eyes darting over to Robert and Henry to make sure they were occupied.

Then, Margaret tilted her head toward Cora's, one eyebrow raised in an expression of mischief. "Henry and I have the loveliest idea, Cora. You and Robert should join us for dinner tomorrow night. And then he and I will show the two of you the delights of Nice at night afterward. How does that sound?"

Cora wondered if she had misjudged Margaret when they'd spent time together over the Season. She had been sure that the statuesque woman bending close and speaking to her in a conspiratorial whisper had not seen Cora as a friend, really, but merely a newcomer who needed help. Margaret had always been kind to Cora, but had never treated her like a particular friend. She deliberated over whether she should ask Margaret about this, but didn't want to alienate her with her bluntness. Of course, she hadn't seemed to drive Margaret away yet.

"That sounds lovely, Margaret – as long as Robert agrees to it." Cora paused, watching her friend's face light up with happiness. Then she ventured, "May I ask you something?"

"You may ask me anything you wish, dear," she answered, patting Cora's hand.

"Are we friends?" At Margaret's bewildered look, Cora hastened to explain. "Only – as generous and helpful as you were to me over the Season, I never got the impression that you wanted me to be your friend. Outside of the balls, we never saw one another, apart from the occasional meeting in the park."

Margaret smiled softly at her. "I'm sorry for that, Cora, if that made you feel as if I didn't want to be your friend." She took a deep breath. "My father hasn't been the most understanding of parents. He never liked me to bring friends home for tea, or to find out I'd been associating with other young ladies." Shrugging, she appeared almost sad for the first time Cora could remember. "I'd let him down for several Seasons, and he couldn't see me 'wasting time,' as he put it, with female friends. He wanted me to marry, and he insisted I invite gentlemen to tea, to show him that I was doing my best to escape being an old maid. But I don't have to worry about what he thinks anymore." She cast a loving look at her husband. "I am free now. Henry freed me. And the best part is that we love one another."

Cora watched as Margaret colored. She thought she understood now. She'd never had such restrictions with her own parents, but she knew young women at home who had. "Yes," she whispered, pressing her friend's hand. "That does sound like the best part." Her own heart gave a painful lurch.

"I apologize, Cora. I shouldn't say so much. I mean no offense. I just feel I can trust you."

"You can, Margaret. And you can say as much to me as you like." Cora took a deep breath. Then she grinned. "Remember, I'm a vulgar American. I'm used to people saying what they will. Especially to their friends."

Margaret nodded and exhaled in relief. "I'm happy we can be friends."

Cora smiled. "So am I." And she was.

The remainder of the evening Cora and Robert spent with Henry and Margaret. They danced and chatted – the four of them together at times, and at other times in pairs – and drank champagne and laughed. Cora had to admit that she was having a lovely time, particularly when she considered how Robert kept glancing her way, even when he danced with Margaret and she with Henry. Instead of having his eyes on his partner, his eyes were on her. She couldn't help grinning and blushing at this, which only seemed to encourage him.

Once they said goodnight to their friends and got upstairs, Robert kissed his wife's cheek and pressed her hand before they disappeared into their respective rooms to change for bed.

Banks had been gone barely a few moments before Robert tapped upon her door. Cora smiled as she called, "Come in." She rose from the dressing table and held her hands out to him. He closed the door and took her hands, then bent down to kiss her on the mouth.

"I've missed that – this," Robert murmured as his lips began to follow along the curve of her cheek, her jaw, her throat. His hands released hers and traveled lazily over her waist and hips through her night dress.

"Why didn't you come to me, then?" she whispered in reply, closing her eyes to drink in every touch and tilting her head back with a sigh.

Pulling away slightly, he gave a little shake of the head. "I didn't want to disturb you. It's difficult to get enough sleep on trips like that."

Cora nodded. "Well, you can still come to me if you like. I'll always let you know if I'm too tired."

He clasped his hands behind her back and watched her finger his night shirt collar, her eyes following her own movements. "Are you too tired now? It's been a long day –"

Her finger upon his lips silenced him. Cora raised her eyes to meet his. "Hush, Robert. I'm fine."

With that assurance, he pressed her closer and kissed her deeply.

Cora didn't know what she expected, but after all the glances he'd sent her over the latter part of the evening, the new setting in which they found themselves, she thought something might change. But, everything unfolded as usual. Robert guided her to the bed, he turned the lamps low, he removed his clothes, then her drawers, and they were together in a similar fashion as before. And, again, Cora felt as if something had to be missing, that there had to be more to it. He was gentle and considerate; he never failed in this. But as she lay there with him, his face nuzzled into her neck and her fingers running abstractedly through his hair, she wondered if this was all they would ever have.

Nevertheless, she hung onto it, to the way his breath feathered over her collar bone and his chest rose and fell against hers, to his small touches upon her arm and his warm weight settled along her body. She tucked every second into her heart, trying not to think of when he would get up and leave.

Except, for a while, he didn't. Instead, he repositioned the pair of them so his full weight wasn't upon her, as he sometimes did when he didn't want to leave right away, and wrapped his arms around her. She felt his breathing become deeper and realized after a few moments that he'd fallen asleep. Cora cradled his head against her shoulder and peered at him through the near darkness. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly, observing how it gently ruffled his long lashes which were highlighted by a soft beam of light that struck his face. She blinked back tears. She'd never seen him sleep before, and he looked so peaceful and beautiful in repose.

Just like when he'd danced with her in the ballroom, she never wanted the moment to end.

Cora wasn't sure how much time had passed before he awoke – perhaps an hour. He smiled at her when he opened his eyes. "Can't sleep?" he asked in a low voice.

"No." She smiled back. "Not yet."

Robert began stirring, beginning to sit up. "Well, perhaps you can once I'm gone." Brushing his lips over her cheek, he got up and put his night clothes back on. "Goodnight, Cora," he said, leaning close to give her a brief kiss upon the mouth. "Sleep well."

"Goodnight, Robert," she murmured as he left the room. Retrieving her drawers, she put them on and then turned the lamps down all the way. Staring into the darkness at the place where he'd lain next to her only moments before, she curled up and pulled the bedclothes over her, sighing deeply. She wasn't sure she would ever get completely used to how easy it seemed to be for him to leave her bed.

* * *

The next several days fell into a pattern. Robert spent most of the day with Henry, while Cora spent it with Margaret. During the evenings, the four would have dinner and either go into the ballroom for dancing or out into the city to explore. Cora enjoyed it, despite her initial misgivings about spending so much of her honeymoon with people other than her husband. Margaret was proving to be a sweet and interesting friend, and Cora thought Henry, who was both kind and amusing, a good match for her.

Still, the way Robert acted during dinner and after confused her. He hadn't been like that with her in a long time, except for their wedding day. He didn't flirt this way when his parents were present; the easy way that Henry and Margaret were with one another seemed to bring it out in him. Then, however, when they went upstairs, it was much as it had been before. Perhaps it was supposed to be. Cora didn't know anymore.

They'd been in Nice nearly a week when Robert rapped his knuckles on her door before dinner. "Cora? Banks left a while ago; are you alright?"

Dabbing her handkerchief at the corners of her eyes, Cora said, "Yes, Robert. Would you come in here for a moment, though?"

He opened the door, stepping in while saying, "We'll be late for dinner…." He trailed off and looked at her in concern. "Are you certain you're alright, Cora?"

Cora gazed down the gloved hands resting upon her lap and took a deep breath. "I'm – I'm not pregnant, Robert."

His eyebrows drew together in confusion. "How do you kn –"

She cut him off with a meaningful look.

"Oh." Robert ran a hand over his forehead, taking this in. Then he focused his eyes upon hers. "Are you alright?"

Cora shrugged. "I suppose so. Your mother won't be happy." She glanced down again with a sigh.

Robert went to where she sat at the dressing table and knelt in front of her, clasping her hands. "You let me deal with her, Cora. We haven't been married that long."

She lifted her head to meet his eyes. "Are you disappointed?" she whispered.

"We haven't been married that long," he repeated firmly, pressing her hands. She could tell that he was at least a bit disappointed, but that he also didn't want to upset her. She nodded and closed her eyes again, her heart giving a leap when she felt him kiss her cheek. "It'll be alright, Cora. We have time."

Her lashes fluttering open, Cora managed a small smile. Her mother's voice sounded in her head: _Levinsons persevere_. And he was right; they had time.

"There, that's better." Robert smiled at her in return and brought her hands to his lips, kissing the back of each. "Do you still feel like going downstairs?"

Cora nodded again. "I do." She took his arm after he'd stood and offered it to her.

Over dinner Cora noticed that the dynamic between them had changed somewhat. Instead of playful, his glances consisted of concern or – and these made her breath catch – a sort of tenderness. As oblivious as her husband tended to be about so many things, somehow he'd perceived how truly upset she'd been to have to tell him this news. In answer to these glances, she sent sweet smiles his way, looking forward to when they might dance together that night and she could be in his arms.

But soon after dinner, Robert made their excuses to Henry and Margaret. With a whispered, "I'll explain tomorrow" to Margaret, Cora followed her husband upstairs, slightly chagrined.

"Robert?" she inquired as he closed the suite door behind them. "Are you alright? Why did we leave?"

He stared at her in confusion. "No, I'm fine. I just thought you might be tired and like a quiet, early night."

Cora shook her head. "Not really, Robert. Why didn't you ask me first?"

"I don't know," he replied truthfully. "I was trying to be considerate." His face fell slightly. "We can go back downstairs if you like…." He started back toward the door.

"That's alright. We're already up here." She sat upon the settee and smiled at him reassuringly.

"Er," he muttered uncomfortably as he made his way to the drinks cabinet with which the room was supplied. "Would you like something?" He began pouring himself a Scotch.

"Perhaps a sherry?" She watched as he located the sherry and poured her some. He brought it to her and sat on a chair with his whiskey.

They sat there, sipping at their drinks, neither offering any conversation, until Cora couldn't stand it anymore.

She stood abruptly. "I think I am a little tired. I'll go to bed now. Might you ring for Banks for me?"

Robert stood as well, blinking at her in astonishment. "Yes, um, of course, Cora. Goodnight then."

Cora disappeared into her room, leaning against the back of it and closing her eyes. Nothing was as she thought it would be.

* * *

"Margaret, sometimes I simply don't know how to act around him," Cora admitted to her friend after disclosing the events of the night before. The pair walked along the beach arm in arm. It felt good to confide in someone outside of Robert's family. It was all very well to speak to Rosamund or know that Patrick knew how she felt, but it wasn't quite the same.

"Robert means well, Cora. He's a good man. And he does seem to be growing fond of you." Margaret squeezed her arm.

Cora sighed. "Possibly. I just don't know. He wouldn't admit it, but he was disappointed. No potential heir on the way. It hurt me to tell him."

"Oh, darling. Please don't worry too much. It doesn't always happen right away. Henry and I – well, I'm not expecting yet." Her voice sounded a bit sad.

Stopping them, Cora gave her friend a serious look. "It will happen."

Margaret's face softened. "Is it any less true for you?"

Cora smiled. "I suppose it isn't. Thank you, my dear friend." Beginning to walk with her friend again, Cora shook her head. "Although, it isn't the same. Henry loves you. I can see it."

Inexplicably, Margaret began to chuckle. "I shouldn't laugh, but _that_ part doesn't depend upon love. Although it can help, I'm sure."

But Cora didn't laugh. "I just – I feel like there's supposed to be more." She lowered her voice, glancing about them to make sure no one was close enough to hear her.

"More?" Margaret twisted her head, perplexed. "More than what?"

Blushing, Cora shook her head again. "Never mind. I shouldn't speak of such things."

"Cora, we're beyond that now, aren't we?"

Taking a deep breath, Cora explained, "More than what I feel with him. I receive letters from some of my friends from home – far more explicit than they probably should be." She colored even more, but continued. "I don't feel that. Sometimes – often, actually – I think I could get there, but then…." She lowered her voice even more. "It's over. And I wonder if I can do more or –" She broke off with a shrug.

Margaret was silent for a long moment. "It took a few times – for me." Her own face colored deeply. "I didn't know exactly what to expect, but I think Henry had, well…."

Cora's eyes went wide. "I think that's common. My brother certainly has experience – and don't ask how I know." She rolled her eyes. "To be honest, I don't think Robert has… not before me." She pulled Margaret's arm closer to her.

Nodding, her friend said, "I don't blame Henry. It was before he met me, and I'm sure his older brother encouraged him. And, what can I say, he lived in France for two years. It's bound to, er, expand your experience a little, whether you plan it or not. I do know how the world works, Cora. And, because he has some knowledge, I can't help but think it benefits me a trifle…." She trailed off, her face bright crimson now.

"Perhaps. I still think I am not doing everything I can. But I keep thinking Robert wouldn't like it. I don't want to upset him." Cora looked down at their boots strolling through the sand.

Margaret halted, then stepped in front of her friend. "You need to talk to him. It's the only way. And I say this as a stuffy Englishwoman." She grinned.

Cora smiled a bit. "No, I think I'd embarrass him. I am content with how things are."

Raising an eyebrow, Margaret asked, "Are you?"

Staring at Margaret, Cora sighed and closed her eyes. "No," she admitted. "But I don't want to make them worse, either." She opened her eyes and looked up into the sympathetic face of the tall woman in front of her. "I can't lose what I have, Margaret. I can't," she whispered.

Margaret nodded. "I understand." She drew Cora's arm through her own again. "Come, let's have luncheon. I'm famished – all this sea air."

Cora smiled at her gratefully, unsure if she _did_ understand, but happy that she'd dropped what was becoming a painful subject.

* * *

Banks was just putting the finishing touches on her coiffure when Cora heard a sharp rapping upon her door. Looking up from where she fished jewels from their travel case, Cora called out, "Come in!" knowing it could only be one person.

"Oh good," Robert said, grinning. "You haven't put on your jewelry yet."

Cora glanced at Banks in the mirror, who nodded, bobbing slightly before she disappeared, closing the door behind her. "Is there something wrong, Robert?" she asked.

"No. I just – I have something for you." He continued to grin, apparently pleased with himself.

Twisting herself around in her chair, Cora smiled at her husband. "You do?"

"I do," he said, approaching her and holding out a neatly wrapped box.

Cora took it, unwrapping and opening it. She gasped in surprise. "Robert, what possessed you to give me this?" She looked up at him.

He shrugged, still grinning. "Henry and I were walking in the town, and I saw it in the window of a shop. I thought it would match your blue dress – which I see you're wearing tonight." His blue eyes sparkled at her. "Please, will you wear it tonight?"

She picked up the necklace which winked in the light. "What stones are these, Robert?"

"Moonstones," he replied. "And diamonds, of course."

She looked up at him, smiling. "Certainly, I'll wear it. Might you…?" Cora indicated that he should fasten it around her neck. "I think I have just the earrings too."

Cora held her breath as he fumbled with the clasp. His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. "There," he uttered in triumph.

"Robert?" Cora ventured as she put on the earrings and pulled out a simple headpiece. She wanted the necklace to shine above her other jewelry. "Why did you get this for me?"

He cast his eyes down, moving away from her a few paces. "You were so upset yesterday, and, obviously, I only made things worse, so I wanted to get you something to cheer you."

Cora's heart jumped. "You didn't make things worse, Robert. But I do thank you for the gift. Whole-heartedly." Her eyes met his in the mirror. "Please, though, I want to stay out tonight. As long as you are willing."

Robert relaxed visibly. "Yes. I'm willing. Shall we?" He grinned at her. "You do look very fine, Cora. I'll be the envy of every man there."

"Except Henry," she chuckled, wrapping her arm around his.

"No, well, he has the woman he loves." Robert fidgeted slightly at this.

"Margaret is a worthy partner for him. I only hope I'm a worthy partner for you, Robert." Cora turned to him in earnest as they headed toward the door.

"Oh, Cora. You are." His voice was soft, reassuring.

In that moment, Cora felt reassured.

* * *

They had a lovely evening. Again, Robert flirted and cast longing looks Cora's way. Cora looked down demurely, but was secretly – or not so secretly – pleased. When they got back up to their rooms, Robert left her in front of her door with a long, lingering kiss.

It left Cora breathless.

Banks undressed her, but Cora told her to leave the necklace out on the dressing table. After the maid left, Cora picked up the beautiful piece and fingered it lovingly. It wasn't the first piece of jewelry Robert had given her, but it was the first he'd given her without any sort of affianced or marital obligation. Therefore, it was already special and sacred to her. And all of a sudden, she felt she hadn't been as outwardly grateful as she should have been for it.

Silently, she crept from her room and into the sitting area, then over to his bedroom. Sharp noises gave her pause. She couldn't think what they were, so she pressed her ear to the panel to hear. It sounded like… well, she wasn't sure, but it sounded like the sounds he made when they were together. Or else Robert was in pain.

Not wanting to disturb her husband unnecessarily, she applied her eye to the keyhole, then gasped, nearly pulling away at the sight that met her.

Robert lay flat upon his bed, but she could see his drawers down around his knees and his nightshirt up around his waist. He ran his hands up and down the length of his arousal, his moans becoming ever more acute. Cora put her hand over her mouth – in awe, shock, and to muffle any expressions of surprise.

"Oh, God," she could make out from his sighs, then, unexpectedly, "Cora, Cora, yes."

Her eyes widened, and she almost dropped the necklace she held in her hand. Whatever it was he was doing – he thought of her. Cora's face flooded with warmth, and she felt a pull between her legs at the realization. Her own breath grew short, as she could tell that her husband's had. She saw his hands glide ever more quickly along his length and heard his gasps become more acute.

In a few moments, Cora drew herself away, her slippers pattering silently over the carpet back to her own room. She placed the necklace gently upon the dressing table and sat down upon her bed, in a state of slight shock. Then she smiled to herself. At least… at least it was her name he sighed. He couldn't be with her, but it was her name upon his lips.

Turning down the lamps, Cora folded herself beneath the bedclothes feeling much better than she had earlier that day.


	6. I just wanted to kiss you

Cora and Margaret settled themselves in Cora and Robert's sitting area with an elaborate tea the next afternoon while the men went – well, Cora wasn't sure where they'd gone. The two women had been shopping that morning and had had their luncheon in an elegant restaurant before they'd parted to rest a while. Now they'd reconvened, and Cora realized she hadn't seen her husband all day. Then, she colored, thinking of the last time she _had_ seen him.

Pouring herself another cup of tea, Margaret settled back against the settee. "What sort of thoughts made you blush all of a sudden, pray tell, Cora?"

Finishing a cucumber sandwich, Cora shook her head slightly. "I shouldn't say, Margaret. I don't want to embarrass anyone." She grinned.

Margaret let out a rich chuckle. "As you like, dear. Although I'm not the type to be embarrassed."

Cora laughed. "How do you know I meant you?"

"Well, perhaps you didn't. I won't pry, then." Margaret took a sip of her tea, then looked at Core more seriously. "Are things any better between you two?" They hadn't really discussed this during their outing that morning, concentrating instead upon purchasing expensive lingerie and exquisite millinery. Cora had even picked out a gorgeous new night dress for the night she would invite Robert back into her room. It was, after all, their honeymoon.

Sighing, Cora shrugged. "It seemed better last night. Did you see the necklace I wore?" At Margaret's nod, Cora went on. "Well, he brought me that as a gift – to cheer me, he said."

"Yes, Henry mentioned that Robert had gotten you a gift whilst they were out yesterday." Margaret picked up a biscuit.

"Margaret, I just don't know. Sometimes Robert is tender and gentle and caring, and sometimes…." Cora closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. "Sometimes he appears completely indifferent to me. I don't know what to make of it. But last night, he left me with such a wonderful kiss."

"Well, that's something, isn't it?"

Cora shrugged again. "Every time I allow myself to think that, I get disappointed." Her eyes fell to the teacup she held in her lap. "Sometimes I wonder why I didn't go when my mother asked me to before," she said in a tiny voice.

A voice Margaret obviously heard. She leaned forward, her long arms reaching across the small table between them, and rested her hand on Cora's. "Because you loved him. And you still do."

Cora swallowed hard, nodding. "I do." After a moment, she turned her hand to clasp Margaret's, grateful for her friend. She lifted her eyes. "I even told him once – that I'd fallen in love with him."

"What did he say?" Margaret prompted softly.

Fighting back tears – not because she was ashamed of shedding them in front of Margaret, but because she wanted to be able to talk – Cora replied, "He looked shocked. Then, I think, a little sad. He said that he'd never considered it. He wanted me to be his wife because he thought I would be a good partner for him. And because I was the only one he could even see himself with. I can't fault him for being honest with me. It's the kind of man he is. The man I fell for in the first place." Tears escaped her eyes. "But, oh, Margaret, I wish he could love me."

Margaret, who Cora gathered was not easily moved to tears, appeared unable to speak for a moment and pulled out her handkerchief. "I see now how very fortunate I am," she whispered. "But I don't think you should give up, Cora. Remember, I've known him for many years – at least as much as our social circle brought us together from time to time. He's never really gone after women. A few flirtations that fell flat before many weeks were out, I'd say, but nothing like when he pursued you. And, remember, he _did_ pursue you, Cora. And he _did_ ask you to stay. But as he's not had many relationships before, he could be just as confused as you are. Did you ever think of that?"

Cora thought about this a moment. "You know, Robert's father said something very similar to me on our wedding day – about Robert not having much interest in women before me. As for the confusion – no, I hadn't really thought of that. Robert doesn't seem the type to be confused." A conversation they'd had their first night came flooding back to her all of a sudden. "Although he did once tell me that I made him forget himself." She blushed, smiling a little.

Pressing her hand warmly, Margaret smiled back. "Cora, I don't think all is lost. As difficult as it is, don't give up hope. We both know that Robert is a good and worthy – albeit sometimes misguided –" here she chuckled lightly – "man. And good men are worth waiting for."

Dabbing at her wet cheeks with her handkerchief, Cora sighed. "But what if it's all for naught? What if he never loves me the way I do him?"

Margaret was silent, gazing at her friend, evidently unsure what to say to keep her from despair. "Only time will tell, Cora," she said softly. "In the meantime, you have more than many women of our station have: Robert respects you and treats you as an equal. He doesn't shun you or berate you."

Cora rolled her eyes. "No, I have his mother to do that."

"But he doesn't like it when she does, does he?"

"No, he doesn't," Cora admitted. "Although he's done very little to defend me to her either."

Margaret's brows drew together. "Give him time. I know a bit about his relationship to Lord and Lady Grantham. It's very difficult for him to stand up to his mother, I'd expect. She's notorious for being formidable."

Cora began to laugh. "Well, that's true enough." After a moment she grew silent again. "But he _has_ stood up for me before – that's what I find so bewildering."

Squeezing her friend's hand, Margaret asked, "He has?"

"Yes. When Lady Grantham accused me of having an affair with a footman – in front of my mother. _And_ Robert." Cora went a deep shade of scarlet.

Margaret's mouth gaped open. "Why would she do that?"

The heat rose even higher in Cora's face. She cast her eyes to the carpet. "Robert and I – well – we didn't wait for our wedding night," she murmured.

"Cora!" Margaret's expression was a mixture of astonishment and awe. "What – how?"

"He and his father had 'the talk' – you know the one, I think – two days before we were to be married, and Robert knocked on my door, and we hadn't been alone together in so long…." Cora paused to take a deep breath, her eyes still on the floor. "Robert kept telling me he would leave, but I didn't want to wait. He kissed me, and his arms were around me, and I didn't want it to end." She raised her eyes to her friend. "Am I horrible, Margaret?"

Margaret shook her head and smiled softly. "No, Cora. It's not horrible. I think you needed to be close to him – am I right?" Seeing Cora's acknowledgement of the truth of this, she continued. "And Robert stood up to his mother? Admitted that he'd been with you before you married?"

"Yes," Cora breathed. "It was magnificent, although my mother might have been the greater antagonist to Lady Grantham." She laughed lightly.

"Cora, I don't think that's a small thing for Robert, to admit such a thing to his mother. He must have been mortified."

"He was. But he stood his ground. I was so proud of him, Margaret. After that, though…. I don't know. He has such respect for his mother, even when she's cruel to me. He says he doesn't like it, but he doesn't do anything about it." Cora put her head in her hand. "I don't know what to think anymore. I want to think the best of him –"

"Then do," Margaret interrupted. "Think the best of him. Please, Cora. Would you have ended up with someone you were even half so happy with in Newport or New York?"

Her question startled Cora a bit. She looked up. "I – probably not. I love Robert. I can't imagine sharing my life with anyone else."

"Then I think you know what to do. You have to give him a chance." Margaret's eyes bored into Cora's, as serious as Cora had ever seen her.

"I will," whispered Cora. "I will."

* * *

When Cora stepped out of her room to join her husband that evening, she caught sight of his face and immediately blushed. She did her best not to grin, yet ended up blushing harder as he approached her.

He took her arm, and they went downstairs to join their friends for dinner. After dinner they went dancing. Cora could not seem to stop blushing, to stop glancing at him and remembering – the kiss or what she saw and heard through the keyhole.

Robert smiled down into her face as they danced, and she could barely breathe, her entire body tingling with hope and love.

After several hours of dancing, Robert leaned near to her and whispered in her ear, suggesting a stroll in the gardens. "It's quite close in here, Cora," he offered in explanation.

This did not help Cora with her attempt to stop the blush from spreading. Nevertheless, she nodded, and they said goodnight to Henry and Margaret, the latter sending Cora a surreptitious wink.

Once they'd strolled a little while in silence, Robert stopped her, his expression serious.

"Cora?" he inquired. "Is something wrong?"

This only made her feel warmer. She cast her gaze down onto the path. "No," she said. "Nothing is wrong."

"But you appear very flushed, and you have been all evening. Are you certain you aren't ill?" He tugged off a glove and touched the back of his hand to her forehead, and she closed her eyes, breathing harder.

"Yes, I'm certain." She let out her breath in a long exhale, enjoying the feel of his hand upon her brow.

Robert removed his hand in the next moment, replacing his glove. "Well, you don't feel overly warm to me. Although I thought you might be too warm inside and that the cold air would help. If you seem feverish tomorrow, I would suggest seeing the resort physician."

Cora opened her eyes and smiled. "I assure you that I'm perfectly healthy, Robert."

"I'm happy for that then." He bent his head to her ear yet again, murmuring, "I had some champagne sent up to our room to await our arrival, and I wouldn't want it to go to waste."

"Champagne?" Cora blinked at him in disbelief.

"Yes. We've been spending so much time with Margaret and Henry – not that I haven't enjoyed it – and very little time with one another. Especially in the past several days." He took her hand and kissed it, then threaded her arm through his to walk with her again.

Cora didn't know what to say, so she stayed silent, her heart pounding.

They wound through the high garden hedges together in companionable silence for a time. Then, coming across a secluded nook containing a stone bench, Robert let out a low chuckle. "This reminds me of our first kiss. Do you remember?"

"Of course I remember," she said softly, astonished when he drew her to the bench and had her sit with him.

"Except – this time – I can see you." He gave her a wide smile. "And you're just as beautiful now as you were then." He reached a gloved hand up and brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek.

Cora emitted an involuntary sigh and closed her eyes once more.

Then his lips converged upon hers, his hand cupping her face. The kiss was gentle, his lips rubbing against hers, as if he were savoring the taste and feel of her lips. Cora found herself unable to do anything other than return his kiss, so surprised was she. Her hands and arms felt numb, and her heart thumped an excited staccato. Another breathy sigh rose from her throat, and this seemed enough incentive for her husband to deepen the kiss.

After several moments of this sweetest of heavens – in Cora's view – Robert ended the kiss. Cora fluttered open her eyelids and stared at his smiling face in awe, rendered speechless. His thumb stroked her cheek lightly. "It's starting to get colder, Cora. We should go upstairs and open the champagne. Would that suit you?"

Cora nodded, thinking that she had not noticed the cold, his kiss had warmed her so. He stood and extended his hand to her, pulling her arm through his to walk with her back into the hotel.

Robert kept glancing around at her with a smile as they made their way upstairs to their suite. This had her blushing again. When they walked in, he ushered her to the settee, then, taking off his gloves, picked up the bottle of champagne, checking to be sure it was thoroughly chilled before beginning to open it. Cora watched his tongue poke out of the side of his mouth with concentration, careful not to giggle at this.

He paused once he got close to pulling the cork all the way out, and glanced at her. "You're very quiet, Cora. You're certain you're feeling alright?" His brows drew together.

If she were honest, Cora would have to tell him that she'd been so happy that she'd been afraid to speak and possibly break the spell. Instead she shook her head slightly and said, "Yes, I'm feeling very well, Robert." She cocked her head at him. "I hadn't expected you would know how to open a bottle of champagne."

Robert chuckled, Cora relieved he knew what she meant. "Yes, well, the lads at school used to sneak bottles from receptions into our rooms, and we all got very good at opening them properly." A soft hiss from the bottle indicated the cork had been freed. "We didn't want a loud noise to give us away." He held up the cork and then deposited it onto the table before pouring two glasses.

"But you don't really like champagne," she said as he handed her a full glass.

"No, and I didn't often indulge, but they came to me to open the bottles because I apparently had a way with them." He sat beside her and took a sip.

"Well, that's certainly a skill I hadn't known one could possess." Cora laughed and had a long drink from her flute.

He presented his hand with a flourish. "One of many ways of being good with your hands."

Cora choked on the champagne, beginning to cough. What she'd seen through the keyhole had suddenly flashed through her head.

"Are you alright?" He raised his hand again, poised to thump her on the back if necessary.

Nodding, Cora coughed for another minute before her throat felt clear enough again. She was almost grateful for the fit of coughing; it successfully hid how red she'd blushed at the memory.

"Would you like some water?" Robert half stood, a questioning look on his face.

"Yes," she answered with another small cough. "Thank you," she said when he'd brought it, feeling much better after she had some.

He put the water glass aside after she finished it. "Better?" He smiled at her.

Returning the smile, she had a sip of champagne. "Yes."

"Good."

When he took a drink, Cora realized she'd begun staring at his hands. She marveled at how strong they looked, and yet how gently she knew he could touch her. She'd never really noticed before how beautiful his hands were. And then she wished she could hold them and trace over the lines in his palms, map them all in her head, memorize the contours of his fingers, and press soft kisses to the backs of them.

"Cora?" Robert's voice nudged her from her reverie.

"Hmm?" She tore her eyes reluctantly from his hands and settled them upon his face.

"You appeared lost in thought." He cleared his throat softly. "But perhaps you're tired. We can retire if you prefer. I just wanted –"

He appeared disappointed at the idea that they might end the evening here. Cora shook her head, giving him a smile. "No, Robert. I'm fine, really. I was simply, well, lost in thought, like you said." She lifted her flute a trifle. "Besides, there is still champagne left."

"That's true," he conceded, grinning at her and having another sip of his.

The way he gazed at her made her heart pound. Then he sidled closer to her on the settee, taking her hand. She glanced down at their hands and back up at him, trying to control her suddenly erratic breathing.

Perhaps Margaret had been right.

Once they'd drained their glasses, instead of pouring more, Robert put his down, then carefully took hers away and placed it next to his. He leaned forward and kissed her again, rather like he had in the garden. He pressed her hand and rested his other upon her neck, just above her collar bone. "Cora," he murmured as his lips left her mouth and kissed gently along her jawline.

"Robert, I still have several more days… we can't…." Her whisper ended in a contented sigh as she tilted her head back to accommodate his desire to kiss her throat.

"I know," he breathed against her neck before raising his head to look at her, his hand gliding over her shoulder briefly before caressing her cheek. He gazed at her intently. "I just wanted to kiss you."

Dipping his head down, he kissed her again, releasing her hand to slide his fingers up her arm to the top of her long glove, working this down. Cora worried the tiny buttons at her wrist until they were undone, making it easier for Robert to remove the glove. Dropping this upon the floor, he grazed his fingertips over her arm with the lightest of touches, sending chills up and down Cora's spine. A delighted purring escaped her throat as he continued to kiss her and move his hand up and down her arm.

Eventually Robert clasped her hand in his once more and drew back from her with a smile, running a thumb along her cheek. "Is that alright? If I sometimes just want to kiss you?"

Cora's heart leapt. "Of course it is." She met his smile with one of her own.

"More champagne?" he asked.

She didn't see how the evening could continue in its perfection, so she answered, with a tiny shake of the head. "No, I think I'll go to bed now. I'm rather tired, Robert."

"I understand," he said with a nod. Cora thought she detected a hint of disappointment, although his smile didn't waver.

"I had a marvelous evening." She squeezed his hand and lifted his other from her cheek gently, pressing it in her own. "Goodnight, Robert," she said softly, rising from her place on the settee and releasing his hands. She cast a glance over her shoulder before she disappeared behind her door, a blush creeping into her face to see that his eyes had followed her.

Leaning against the back of the door, Cora traced her fingers over her lips, closing her eyes. "Perhaps Margaret is right," she whispered to herself with a smile.

* * *

For the next several days, Cora felt as if she were in a dream world. She and Robert spent a great deal of time with their friends still, but every day Robert carved out several hours that they would spend alone together. They went into the city or walked along the beach or had tea in their suite. And at night… every night Cora's sense of caution, of potential impending disaster would sneak into her mind and cause her to end them in a similar way as before.

But it had an unexpected effect. Her being the first to say goodnight appeared to encourage Robert to spend even more time with her on the subsequent day.

Then, on the fourth night, Cora said goodnight. But when she stood, she kept his hands in hers and bent to whisper in his ear. "You might join me tonight, after Banks has left." Without waiting for an answer, Cora brushed her lips over his and pulled her hands away, closing her door. She didn't even spare a glance behind her this time.

While waiting for Banks, she retrieved the new night dress from the wardrobe. She couldn't wait for Robert to see her in the tissue thin rose silk that she believed would highlight her slender curves to excellent advantage.

And when Cora saw his face after he entered her room, she knew it did.

"Oh… Cora… you…" He didn't manage anything else before he seemed too overcome and bounded across the room, wrapping his arms around her and pressing her tightly to his body as he kissed her even more intensely than he had all week.

What she had forgotten was how acutely he reacted to her when he'd missed a night in her company. Except, this time he'd been absent from her a week.

It was all over far too quickly.

Although not exactly disappointed, Cora felt somewhat cheated. Margaret had told her that it had taken her a few times to feel, well, what Cora thought she might feel. But, how was Cora to get there? As Robert rolled them onto their sides and held her against him, the new night dress still bunched up around her waist, she sighed silently. Perhaps it was time to speak to him.

Cora moved her hand from where she'd been stroking his hair for a while, Robert having fallen into a doze, to rearrange her night dress over her lower limbs. When she drew her hand back, she brushed against him by accident, eliciting a sharp gasp from her husband. Flicking her eyes down, she could see even in the dim light that he'd reacted to her brief touch.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, unsure what else to say.

She could tell that his face focused now on hers. "Only apologize if you won't let me be with you again," Robert whispered in earnest.

Cora's eyes went wide to realize that they could be together more than once in such a short space of time. It pushed what she'd been about to discuss with him into the furthest recesses of her mind. "No, it's alright." She touched his cheek and smiled.

With this permission, Robert cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. She slid her arms around him and ran her fingers over the muscles of his back. He sneaked one of his hands down between their bodies and kneaded a breast, making Cora breathe in sharply and prompting one of those wonderful tugs between her thighs.

"Robert," she sighed against his hair as his lips burned a trail of fire over her collar bone.

Lifting his head and pressing her back into the mattress once more, Robert grazed his fingers up her legs, dragging the hem of her night dress up as well. He murmured in her ear, "Cora, how do you bewitch me so?" He touched her cheek, looking down into her face, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"I don't quite know," she answered honestly, wishing it were lighter in the room so she could see his eyes clearly.

Then Robert bent his head down again and took her earlobe between his lips, beginning to gently nibble it.

"Oh my," Cora breathed as she closed her eyes and pushed her hips up against him involuntarily.

Robert let out a deep groan at this. "Cora, please," came his husky voice in her ear.

"Yes, Robert," she hummed, the surging of blood between her legs growing ever more intense.

In another moment, he'd slipped inside her and began moving. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her hips lifting to meet his strokes. Once more, just before he collapsed against her, she thought she might be close having the sort of experience her friends had described… yet, she didn't. She sighed as she held her husband against her, resting her cheek on the top of his head and blinking into the near darkness. She told herself to enjoy what she had and try not to worry about the rest. At least he was here in her arms for a while.

She hoped the rest would follow, in time.

* * *

During last week of their honeymoon, Cora allowed this hope to strengthen. And because of this, they were halcyon days for her. Yes, Robert still left her room after they were together. Yes, they spent time with Margaret and Henry as well as time alone. But Cora had found a friend in Margaret, and she began to see Henry as a friend too.

Despite the fact that she couldn't change Robert's mind about sleeping in the same bed with her, Cora thought the two of them were becoming much closer. And, when he showed signs of leaving before she was ready, she'd "accidentally" brush her hand over him again, earning herself a second opportunity to be with him and then hold him close afterward.

Robert didn't seem to mind this.

When the final day of their trip approached, Cora felt confident enough in how everything between them was proceeding that she felt only a faint tug of sadness that they'd be departing the next day. Most of this sadness had to do with leaving Margaret and Henry, rather than leaving Nice. Their friends were staying for several more days, then they were off to tour Europe for a few months. Cora knew she would feel the loss of Margaret keenly over those months.

After tearful goodbyes on the part of the ladies and vigorous hand-wringing on the part of the men, Cora and Robert headed home. But instead of Cora watching Robert read the entire time, they talked and ate and laughed together, and Robert even made a few nocturnal visits to her.

Thus, it was with a great sense of peace that Cora watched Downton appear before them on the last leg of the journey. Now their marriage could really begin.


End file.
